Count Dooku stared at the map of the galaxy, his eyes fixed on the spreading red that seemed to crawl across the stars, relentlessly advancing throughout the galaxy without pause.
The color was like a tumor, infecting everything in its path, swallowing systems whole. What had started as a slow burn now moved with unsettling speed. A wave of secessionist sentiment, a force that was once fragile, now surged like an unstoppable tide. It was no longer a question of whether more planets would join—it was only a matter of how many each day. The dominoes were falling faster than he could have ever imagined. His hand, though unseen, had been the one to push them.
Dissatisfaction with the Republic, the self same that lived in his heart, existed in the rest of the Galaxy, it just needed the organization of an individual with charisma, intelligence, and resources.
When he left the Jedi Order, he figured himself to fit that role. To become the leader of a movement that would force the Republic to reform into a true democracy, or face the direct consequences of ignoring its population.
At the start, he had been a lone voice in the wilderness. He had traveled from one system to the next, convincing the powerful and the desperate that the Republic was beyond saving, that it had grown bloated, corrupt, and blind to the needs of its people. He had become the leader they needed, the figure who could rally them, but still, it hadn't been enough.
And then, he came. A hand outstretched, offering power, offering the means to force his vision into being. Dooku had paid its price willingly. His mind had sharpened, his resolve had hardened, and the galaxy had grown darker as he accepted the gift of power. The helping hand gave him the resources both in manpower and money he had always needed, but it was a poisoned chalice.
He accepted the toxic gift that would later make him abandon the light side and turn to the dark side.
'It was never supposed to be this way,' Dooku thought bitterly. He had warned the Jedi, had tried to prepare them for the return of the dark side. He had sensed it coming, felt it—while they had been blind. They had mocked his warnings, dismissed his fears. When Qui-Gon Jinn had died, Dooku had been heartbroken, but he hoped the tragedy would shake the order awake and allow them to react aggressively to this new reality.
'But the Jedi... they did nothing.'
The council had been cowed into submission, shackled by the Senate's demands, unwilling to act, to fight back. The death of his Padawan had been in vain—an echo that had reverberated in his heart for years. And the Senate, that festering pit of corruption, had decided for them. The Jedi, ever obedient, had bent and bowed, offering their necks to be crushed by the very system they had sworn to protect.
The blindness of the Jedi Order, the corruption, the indignation.
Would his past self look with pity on his current self? Probably, but for Dooku it no longer mattered, he had chosen the very path he warned the Jedi of and if the Jedi Order would not want to take action, then he would, he would make a better galaxy, and for that he needed to be strong.
The dark side of the force would give him the strength he sought, and Darth Sidious would give him the resources he required.
It would be like that until he no longer needed any of them to make the Galaxy a better place.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mace Windu's eyes scanned the Senate, every corner of the chamber marked with uncertainty. This was no ordinary session. The air was thick with anticipation, and the Senate was a powder keg, each faction waiting to ignite. The last time an emergency session had been called was years ago and many of the senators had forgotten its significance. But today, the galaxy itself trembled on the edge of a knife.
The Senate hall was divided like never before. The militarists stood firm in one corner, their hard faces grim, awaiting a battle they had already begun. The pacifists huddled in the opposite corner. Between them, the neutral senators sat, their faces a study of fear and confusion. They had no place in this storm yet, but they would be forced to pick sides as the crisis continued to deepen.
Mace Windu's gaze hardened as it fell upon the militarists, their influence in the Senate now undeniable. His thoughts were conflicted—should he thank them for hastening the remilitarization of the Republic? Or should he condemn them for their secret dealings, the betrayal of the very principles they claimed to defend? In the end, it didn't matter. He had no concrete proof, no accusations he could make that would hold. All he could do now was speak the truth he knew and pray the Senate would rise to meet it.
"Esteemed members of the Senate and Galactic Citizens," Mace Windu's hologram shimmered above the chamber, his face an imposing presence, his voice carrying with chilling clarity. Everyone in the grand room felt his words reverberate through their very bones—this was no mere address. This was a warning.
"There has been a conspiracy, a conspiracy involving members of the Senate, the administrative branch of the Grand Republic, and the Jedi Order."
The Senate fell into stunned silence.
"This conspiracy has betrayed the will of the majority of this body, the Supreme Chancellor, and the citizens of the Republic, who have fought tirelessly to avoid military escalation at all costs."
Mace Windu's gaze darkened as he felt the weight of what he was about to say.
"This betrayal has manifested in the creation of a clone army—a force of one billion soldiers—ready for war."
A deep, unnatural silence blanketed the Senate. No one spoke. No one moved. The senators were frozen, paralyzed by the sheer enormity of what they had just learned. After thousands of years without an army, the Republic had one now—and they had never known it until now. It was like a bomb had been detonated in their midst, and they hadn't even seen the fuse.
Mace Windu gave a few seconds to the senators before going to continue his speech, but as he was about to speak chaos unfolded. Hundreds, if not thousands, of pacifist senators screamed with fury at the disbelief of the situation; of the betrayal of acting behind the Senate, breaking thousands of years of the democratic traditions of the Senate and the Republic.
Defamation and slander were screamed by the pacifists to the militarists. The pacifists were livid, some of them even shaking in their seats. These senators did not need to know who Mace Windu was talking about, their sworn enemies were responsible.
The militarist faction reacted in the same way; slander, and defamation. Screams of "Something had to be done," but no public admission of crime. The Senate became a mess as the repulsorpods of the senators, delegates, and representatives moved from their positions to the center of the Senate.
"Order! Order in the Senate!" Screamed the Grand Vizier Mas Amedda, trying to recover the order in the Senate before it turned into a battle between militarist and pacifist. Some neutrals advanced and others stayed in their position, each faction trying to drown the other.
"Order!" Mace Windu's command rang out like thunder, his Force-enhanced voice cutting through the chaos. A heavy silence descended, as though the very air had been forced still under the weight of his will. His hands raised, he exerted the power of the Force, freezing the repulsorpods of the senators in place. His command was not just heard—it was felt. It was as though Mace Windu had taken control of the very pulse of the Senate, bending the very essence of its power to his will.
"This is the Senate," Mace Windu's voice boomed. It wasn't just a command—it was a declaration. His words thundered through not in the chamber, rather each syllable echoing in every senator's mind. Behave like is expected from you.
The Senators were cut from their feelings at the rough look the Jedi High Council gave them, like they were seeing children unable to behave. Many of them began to order their repulsorpods to return to their position, the social pressure made even the strongest-willed senators desire to fight, fold in like wet paper, and return to their position.
"We don't know who the conspirators are, we in the Jedi Order also have our own traitors that have been part of this conspiracy. But not for that reason will we hunt our own ignoring their right to innocence until proven otherwise. I ask you senators to behave accordingly even if it seems in the theory self-evident who did this, we can't jump into conclusions. The Jedi Order were the first one to remilitarize, and we had been trying to get the Republic to remilitarize since the Siege of Naboo. If we were to jump into conclusions. Wouldn't the entire Jedi Order be seen as possible traitors because of our political ideals even if we never acted against the Republic? This Republic has stood proud on the principles of democracy and justice for thousands of years, and this moment of crisis should not be allowed to change that."
Palpatine saw from his seat the High Council commit the worst mistake in politics they could make, showing themselves as militarists after an army was discovered by the Jedi Order. What would the common citizen think? The holo-news and the planetary news, the senators…
The Jedi Order would not care because they are not politicians, but that same reason would be the reason for their downfall. The Jedi Order became loyal to the senate without participating in it, not knowing that loyalty is so often one-sided and that the senate would drop them like a rock, the minute it suited them.
Their lack of political knowledge would be, among other things, the downfall of the Jedi Order.
"We in the Jedi Order are as concerned by this discovery as it is the senate and the galactic citizenship, and we will cooperate with the administration and the senate to discover the conspirators behind this treason. But a more concerning matter has to be taken into account. What will the Republic do with this newfound army that it had been crafted and already paid by the Republic? I, as a representative of the Jedi Order, want to say that with this army already being a tangible reality there is little to no option. But alas it is the Senate's decision."
With that final comment the repulsorpod where the High Council was returned to its original position. Palpatine saw how the repulsorpod slowly came down from their previous position of power until it arrived at the lowest point of the senate.
'A beautiful metaphor,' Thought Sheev Palpatine to himself, before returning his attention to the Senate.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Secessionist Council had gathered in Serenno, the heart of the movement that threatened the very fabric of the supposed "Republic". From the farthest reaches of the galaxy, representatives of over a million planets had convened, their unity born from frustration and a desire for genuine change.
A new galaxy was taking shape. But not yet perfect. The plan to forge a true democracy—one where every planet would have an equal voice—was still in its infancy. Political scientists, philosophers, and strategists were locked in heated debate, attempting to create a system of government that would put an end to the corruption of the old Republic. The promise of a future where lobbying and inequality no longer reigned was tantalizing. But they knew that perfection would take time. For now, the first step was made: an election.
A galactic vote, the first of its kind, had brought two hundred of the most prominent secessionist figures to the legislative body. The movement's first head was chosen with an overwhelming 86% vote—more than fifty quadrillion ballots. The victory was undeniable. Count Dooku, the Voice of the Rims, was elected first head of the movement.
Dooku stood before the council, his eyes strong and calculating, his presence commanding the room. The faces of the representatives were full of anticipation, but the tension was palpable. They had fought for this moment—the concept to break away from the Republic, to start anew. But now, with the Republic's shocking revelation of its army, they stood at a precipice. The galaxy was on the brink, and the decision that lay ahead could ignite the fires of war.
"Representatives," Dooku's voice was calm, even measured, a stark contrast to the storm raging within the council. It was a voice that commanded silence, a voice that carried with it the weight of decades of ambition, thought, and power.
The council settled into respectful silence, their attention never wavering, Dooku allowed himself a moment to observe the faces before him—faces that had once been dismissed as idealists, dreamers. Now, they were traitors in the eyes of the Republic, but to Dooku, they were something far more dangerous, more powerful. They were the architects of the future.
"The words of Mace Windu have sent ripples across the galaxy. But I caution you, my friends… I believe the Republic is lying to us," he said, his voice soft yet laced with an unmistakable edge of skepticism.
His next words landed like a thunderclap.
"An army created out of thin air? Anyone with even the smallest experience in military matters knows that an army is not forged overnight. The Republic wants us to react. They want us to rush into independence, to make them the victim. They want us to start this war, so they can paint us as the aggressors."
The representatives shifted uneasily, their minds racing. The implications were clear: if the Republic's claims were false, it was a trap—a trap designed to provoke a civil war, to paint them as enemies.
"But," Dooku continued, his voice growing steely, "even if I believe these claims to be fabricated, I cannot ignore the escalation the Republic has set in motion by revealing their theoretical army to the galaxy."
A heavy silence followed. The idea of a galactic war felt more real now than ever before, as if the very air in the room had grown thicker with the weight of their collective decision.
"I propose two matters for your consideration," Dooku said, turning toward the council with a sharp look in his eyes.
"First, a modification to one of our constitutional amendments. Article Sixty-Six. We will pass from being only an economic alliance to also be a defensive alliance, one that prevents the Confederacy from declaring war unless we are attacked militarily first."
The room was still, every representative weighing the impact of such a shift in their strategy. A defensive stance would send a clear message: they sought peace, but not in the Republic terms. The vote, when it came, was unanimous.
But Dooku was not finished. His next words hung in the air like a shadow waiting to fall.
"The second matter," he said, eyes narrowing, "is the creation of the Ministry of Defense. This body will oversee the integration of all the local armies under a unified military force to protect the Confederacy. Should the Republic attempt to use this clone army against us, we must be ready. This will include the nationalization of all droid armies within our borders. We will force the corporations to sell us their warships and droids at cost, plus a mere five percent of benefit."
The air in the chamber crackled with tension as Dooku's words sank in. This wasn't just policy—it was preparation for war. An escalation so profound that it was no longer possible to pretend they could avoid conflict. The Confederacy would be armed and ready, but at what cost?
The silence stretched. A hesitant voice broke it.
"Wouldn't this be a declaration of independence?" a representative asked.
Dooku's reply was calm, almost too calm.
"It is not. But I will admit, it may very well provoke the Republic into action. Yet, the question remains: What do we do? Do we remain idle while the Republic constructs an army to crush us? Or do we take up arms to defend the sovereignty of each planet in this movement?" Dooku's voice rose, filled with conviction. "We did not want this war. But if the Republic forces us into it, we will not stand idly by. We will defend our people, our planets, with words and with weapons."
The room held its breath. Dooku's gaze swept over the council.
"What will be your vote, representatives?"
One by one, the votes came in—unanimously in favor. They were ready. There was no turning back now. The Confederacy had forged its path, and the galaxy would soon tremble under the weight of its decision.
Dooku looked at the result of Sidious's conspiracy and smiled to himself, not because he was loyal to the plan but because he was never a vassal of his, just as Sidious planned to use him, he had used him.
"I saw the opportunity to change this galaxy, and I took it. I do not regret anything," muttered Dooku to himself.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Senate chamber was thick with tension. Twelve hours of heated debate had left the air stale, tinged with the sharp sting of exhaustion and frustration. Some senators nibbled on their food, barely tasting it, their minds consumed by the surrounding turmoil. Others sipped their drinks, eyes narrowed, as though the very act of swallowing was an effort they could scarcely afford. But amidst the frayed nerves and frazzled tempers, a decision loomed larger than any individual—a decision that could reshape the galaxy.
The debate had fractured the Senate into factions, each pushing their vision of the Republic's future. The militarists, eager for a swift strike, advocated using the Clone Army as a hammer to crush the Separatists and end potential conflict in its infancy. War, to them, was not only inevitable but desirable—a swift, decisive end to the conflict that could cement the Republic's dominance once and for all.
Opposing them were the pacifists—those who still clung to the hope that peace could be brokered, that the Republic could avoid an all-out galactic war. They spoke passionately of diplomacy, of avoiding the destruction and chaos that a prolonged war would bring to the galaxy's fragile political and economic systems.
More factions had arisen from the neutral faction; the Pragmatic faction was created in the middle of these discussions searching for a rational solution apart from the idealism of the pacifists and the bloodthirst of the militarists. They proposed that, if the Clone Army was one billion strong and one billion more would come every year, then the Republic should use this Clone Army as their new Armed Forces, but not against the Separatists in the hope of avoiding a war that could potentially destroy the galactic economy.
On the other side of the former neutral faction, there was the economist faction. They were more concerned about the expenditures the Republic had from, without knowing, paying for a Clone Army in secret. They also believed that the last thing the already problematic galactic economy needed was the creation of an army that would give no economic benefit to anyone.
More minor factions were created over different concerns but there were some things all of them agreed on. That war would be inevitable if the Clone Army was used against the Separatists. And that, whether the war would be over quickly, like the militarist believed, or drag on, like the pragmatist believed, the galactic economy would suffer greatly and the very principles of the Republic would be forever broken.
For Sheev Palpatine, it was a game whose outcome had long since been decided. His role, as always, was one of patience. He had orchestrated this moment—this cacophony of ideals and counter-arguments—and now everything had fallen into place. As the debate raged on, he watched the Senate tear itself apart, fully aware that the greatest chessboard was the one they had never seen.
He gave a side-eye to the seat of the now dead Senator Padme Amidala, being in her place the representative Jar Jar Binks.
The pieces were in position, without Padme Amidala the pacifists would not be able to organize themselves as efficiently as before. The benefit of charismatic leaders leading revolutions, is that once the charismatic leader is killed, the movement no longer is capable of sustaining itself.
Politics was so… beautiful, Sheev felt like he was on his own playground, where he decided just how the events unfolded, he was the puppeteer in a puppet show, a writer in a story, a gleeful child choosing who among his favourite toys should rise as a hero, or be slain as a monster.
"Representative Jar Jar Binks has five minutes to speak," announced the speakers of the Senate, for Palpatine it was amusing, the Gungan were stupid, and he would see how this representative would humiliate himself in front of the Senate, something to entertain him in this half-a-day long meeting.
"Senators, Misa believes da Senate is a little bit stubid, I hear da Senate talk like we have the fizh on our own hands, but we do not, we just heard talken of a fizh coming to ousa hands."
The Senate looked astonished at the representative, and so did Palpatine.
"Misa proposal is simple-simple like Naboo bread, bring da army here to see if thesa army is real, with the fizh in ousa hands wesa can begin real conversation."
Sheev's surprise was well hidden behind his smiling face, this was an opportunity he was searching for coming from the less expected individual in the Senate.
"Representative Jar Jar Binks has a point," the voice of the Supreme Chancellor made every senator look at the center of the Senate, seeing for the first time the Chancellor showing his opinion on the matter. "We are judging too far what to do and how to do it without knowing what we have in our hands. While I would like to offer a light reprimand to representative Jar Jar Binks, insults are not accepted in this civilized legislative body, he has a great point. We need to bring part of this army to Coruscant. I have always desired peace and believed that negotiations would solve the Separatist crisis, but now that we have discovered an army created against our will we need to investigate it and take the decision of using them or disbanding this created army by the results of these investigations. I propose the following resolution to the Senate: to not recognize this Clone Army as part of the Republic, but to bring a detachment of this army, the biggest formation they have, to Coruscant so it can be reviewed by our executive and legislative body."
Behind him, Grand Vizier Mas Amedda had written the resolution into the datapad, rapidly each seat had the option to vote against or in favor of this action, two-thirds parts of the Senate voted in favor, when only a simple majority was needed.
"I am glad that we have come to a conclusion together as a legislative body," stated Sheev, "Until the detachment reaches Coruscant I propose that each faction reunite and prepare their arguments and questions for when the time comes, decide what to do with this unexpected situation."
Each and every faction of the Senate retired from their seats, tired after twelve hours, unknowing that war was inevitable, not a matter of if, but when.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"You will stay, master?" Asked Anakin to Obi-Wan, behind Obi-Wan marched a Clone Legion, thousands of clones marching under the heavy rain into an Acclamator Transport Spaceship. The banner of the Legion marked the number 501 and SCC-01 was supervising the whole affair.
"More knights and some masters are coming to Kamino, until then someone with some type of authority has to stay—that's me, of course"
"And why can't I stay with you?"
"Because someone has to stay with the army that is going to Coruscant, you need to understand, the Jedi Order needs to know what is happening every second with this Clone Legion and instead of waiting for a month for another Jedi Master to come I have convinced the High Council to trust this task upon you."
Anakin was surprised, he had misjudged the situation, his eyes slowly were put on the Clone Legion marching in perfect formation, he would spend one month in that spaceship with them, alone.
He did not like it, both because he would be alone and because he would be separated from his master and friend. The honor of being trusted with this task could not compensate for the internal fears Anakin had for being alone.
"Is there no chance for you to come with me?" Asked Anakin.
Obi-Wan sighed.
"Would you prefer to stay here on Kamino?" He asked, to which Anakin grimaced.
"That is not the point."
"Then what is?"
"Forget it," Anakin dismissed, frustratedly. He did not trust that Obi Wan would care or even understand his feelings if he tried to explain them. Obi Wan was like his father and he, like his father, showed many times that he did not care about his feelings.
"The High Council had trusted you with this Anakin, I thought you would be honored."
"I am, and I will comply," replied Anakin, "Just forget what I said earlier; I am happy that the High Council is trusting this mission to me."
Obi Wan nodded and turned around, looking at the Clone Legion, marching.
"We don't know anything about them, we don't even entirely know if they aren't an enemy asset, yet the Senate had asked for a Legion… Sometimes I wonder if the Senate is capable of understanding the consequences of their actions. Politicians—they believe themselves so smart, yet they are so devoid of logic."
"They put their trust in us," said Anakin, thinking of the Jedi Temple, "In Coruscant there are always around twenty thousand Jedi—in the worst case, we will be able to defend the Supreme Chancellor and the Senate."
"We are defenders of peace, not soldiers. They can't expect us to act like an army."
"I believe we would be pretty much defending peace if we were fighting an invading force."
"It is no longer an invading force if you invite them directly into your capital…"
Silence reigned between Anakin and Obi-Wan as the endless sea of white armors marched. They knew that this was, for good or bad, an historic event. In their hearts a heavy burden was settling in—they both feared the consequences because they could not understand what they were.
"It will be a difficult task. You will be alone in their territory; if they turn to be enemies chances are that your mission would be to survive long enough to notify the Jedi Order."
"You distrust them far more than I do."
"The situation is what it is. Trust is earned, and this Clone Army has come out of nowhere. Maybe it is not a Mandalorian conspiracy, but this galaxy has seen more unbelievable things. Who knows how many looming crises the Republic is unknowingly facing—the Sith for starters."
"You killed one of them."
"For all we know there could be thousands of them; in fact that is what the High Council believes."
"And why would they not attack if there were thousands of them?"
"Because there is near a million of us, it would be a suicide. That's why they are scheming. The separatists are nothing but puppets of the Sith."
Anakin nodded, "I doubt the clones are our enemies, but I will keep an open eye out."
Obi Wan nodded and put his hand over his shoulder, the wet robes of Anakin felt cold but he did not care, for all he knew this could be the last time he would see him alive, such was the risk.
"The spaceship leaves in one hour but you should board already—explore the entire spaceship before it enters hyperspace, gain information, and then prepare a plan in case everything goes wrong."
"What a way to say goodbye, master."
Obi Wan put on a smug face, "The last time I said it you crashed your starfighter."
Anakin rolled his eyes and laughed, "That was not my fault!"
"If you say so," said Obi Wan, raising his shoulders as he laughed too.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SCC-01 was sitting on a seat in one of the many hangars that the Acclamator had, just in her body glove she got rid of her 'formal clothes' at the first moment she could. She felt them to be degenerate and uncomfortable—the body glove, on the contrary, covered all her body and was comfortable, keeping her at a comfortable temperature at all times.
The seat she was in was the captain's seat, designed to be on the bridge for the Captain, but she did not want to be on the bridge, there was no one there, everything was automated. Here in the hangar, however, there were many clones; either talking, working out, or just passing the time.
On Kamino, they had been told to spend all their free time training or doing something productive, but that 'rule', if you could call it that, was broken the moment they left Kaminoan influence.
She liked it; the comfort of seeing the clones acting like the humans she remembered being around. This comfort, of sitting for the first time in a real chair, of being able to wear the comfortable body glove, of being able to be surrounded by humans and not robots.
This was the closest thing she could have to resting—hours passed like they were minutes. She was barely conscious, falling asleep so many times she even lost track of whether it was still the same day they left Kamino or they were already a week into the trip. From time to time she would wake up to find food and water next to her and she would not question it. If the clones had the right to ignore the Kaminoans, she had that very same right to rest after six years of torture and training.
"Big Sister."
The voice yanked her from oblivion.
SCC-01's body jolted as her mind clawed its way back to the present. Her surroundings blurred, her vision struggling to adjust. Her mouth was dry, her stomach aching from hunger.
How long had she been sleeping? How had she let this happen?
She tried to move, but her limbs refused to obey.
"It's okay. Please don't stand."
The voice—it was one of the clones. Identical to billions of other clones.
SCC-01 forced herself to focus, her breath unsteady. "Are we near Coruscant?"
"Not even close, Big Sister. We're still three weeks away."
Three weeks. She had slept a week. A week.
Her stomach twisted. What had she done?
Shame surged through her like a sickness. She had been indulgent. If the Kaminoans knew—no, when they knew—they would correct her. They always corrected undisciplined behaviour.
She forced herself upright, her muscles trembling from weakness. And only then did she realize—
She was not in the hangar.
She was in her private quarters.
How?
"Who are you?" Her voice was hoarse from disuse.
"I am your personal bodyguard, ARC-0001."
SCC-01 stilled. A bodyguard? She had not been assigned one. She would have known.
"Since when?"
"Kallik Tu gave the order five hours before you boarded the Acclamator." The ARC trooper stood at ease, watching her carefully. "I believed now was a good time to introduce myself."
Her blood ran cold.
Kallik Tu.
She gritted her teeth, her mind reeling with barely contained panic. The Kaminoan scientist had assigned this trooper to watch her.
A spy.
They know. They know. They know.
This… this was a test.
And she had failed.
Had they seen her weakness? Had they seen her in that chair, sprawled out like some lazy trooper? Did they know how many hours she had spent unconscious, instead of doing something useful?
Her fingers twitched, the overwhelming urge to bite her nails clawing at the edges of her control. But she couldn't. She couldn't show them.
"Have you reported anything to the Kaminoans?" she asked, her voice carefully crafted into a mask of indifference.
"No. There has been no contact since we departed. Why?"
She studied his face, searching for deception. But ARC troopers were unreadable—designed that way, engineered to be superior in every way.
If he was a spy, he had already sent his report. If he wasn't, she had a chance.
"What happened in the hangar?" she asked. "How long did I sleep there?"
"Not long, Ma'am. As soon as you fell asleep, I brought you here."
Not long. But it had been long enough.
"You brought me food and water?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
She exhaled sharply, pressing her palms against the bed. It was far from luxurious but compared to the ones she had been forced to sleep on for six years, it was paradise.
Still… she had been weak. She had let herself slip.
And the Kaminoans would not allow weakness.
SCC-01 swallowed, her throat tight. If she had been on Kamino, she could be decommissioned on the spot… or be sent back there…
She shoved that thought away. She had to fix this and prove herself.
Her voice was steady when she finally spoke. "ARC trooper, I appreciate your assistance. But this behavior—it was an anomaly. It will not happen again."
"Of course, Ma'am. I understand."
She blinked.
"You're not the only one," ARC-0001 added, his tone matter-of-fact.
"Would you mind elaborating trooper?"
"Most brothers have all been sleeping more. Three to six hours more than protocol dictates. Since the Kaminoans are no longer here, they're adjusting to their natural needs. I have as well."
SCC-01 stared at him.
She had not expected that.
The grip of the Kaminoans had been absolute—until it wasn't. The moment their presence vanished, the clones had abandoned their artificial discipline without hesitation.
It reminded her of her first life—the way Soviet soldiers, once deployed outside the USSR, had abandoned rigid doctrine for simple human indulgence. How, once the system collapsed, the former states of the USSR had discarded its rules like a snake shedding its skin.
She had always wanted to be free but that desire for freedom had been diluted under the heavy surveillance of the Kaminoans, maybe now that she was getting off their direct influence she would recover her previous mental state, one where she no longer was influenced directly by the fear she had of them.
How foolish. Who was she lying to?
The Kaminoans were always watching. They would always find out. Grabbing true freedom from them was like catching smoke bare-handed. A useless cause.
The clones may not understand what that meant.
But she did.
The Kaminoans still held power. Their leash had simply been loosened, but the collar always remained. Their influence could still reach them through spies, through loyalists, through reports that could undo everything. And then there was the Republic itself—the very entity that had paid for a slave army.
SCC-01 was not naïve. The Republic did not see them as equals. They were weapons, tools of war, made to serve one purpose.
She had spent this entire life fearing the Kaminoans.
Now, she had a new enemy to be wary of.
She pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the present.
"Has the Republic officer on board said anything?" she asked, forcing herself to focus.
"No, Ma'am," ARC-0001 replied. "He is rather friendly with the brothers."
SCC-01 frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
--------------
"Ninety-eight!" Said a clone trooper with excitement as the padawan Anakin Skywalker and another clone trooper were competing, a durasteel bar was set in the middle of the hangar and both were doing pull ups, the clone trooper was in his body glove and the padawan in his jedi clothes.
"Ninety-nine!"
The hangar was filled with clones enjoying the spectacle, from the Commander of the 501st to the lowest trooper this was a source of entertainment but also a way for them to test their own physical abilities with others.
"One hundred!"
Both the clone and the padawan were tired, they had to put more and more effort to each pull up, their faces no longer showed smug but an entire concentration to the task, refusing to lose this competition-
SCC-01 and ARC-0001 made their way through the public, this time SCC-01 was wearing her combat armor instead of just the body glove, showing the etiquette expected from someone of her position, the ARC was also in his prototype armor and he had his weapons on. As a bodyguard it was his duty to protect the Supreme Commander at all times from any threat, and he was committed to the task.
By the time the Supreme Commander had reached the center of such conglomeration of people the number got up by a lot.
"One Hundred and sixty six!"
"Honestly, it is impressive," said the Supreme Commander as she saw the Republic officer and the clone trooper competing for supremacy. The Clone Trooper was expected to be the pinnacle of human biological possibilities, of that she was not surprised, but rather how the Republic officer was capable of doing such a thing. In her experience, in her second life, physical fitness was often forgotten by officers once they were no longer required to be on the front line. Even Lehrgen who was relatively young and physically fit was barely able to do more than twenty pull ups.
Should she stop this undisciplined or let them be? The answer was let them be, she was no oppressor, nor that she was not able to do it, she would do it if it benefited her, she was not hypocrite, she understood that she was not better than the average human. But she saw beauty in controlled freedom, maybe so many years under the Kaminoans had made her appreciate it more than she did in her past two lives.
You don't appreciate things until you lose them was something she was used to hearing, and at every moment of her life that rule was always proven right.
"Who do you think will win Ma'am?" Asked the ARC.
"The Clone Trooper."
For minutes the contest continued, when it was near to three hundred Anakin Skywalker lost the grip of the durasteel bar, falling to the floor, the audience exploded with emotion and the clone trooper jumped into the floor after the victory, raising his hands to his brothers in a sign of victory.
The Republican Officer was on the floor, resting and the Supreme Commander approached him, giving a helping hand to raise him, he accepted it and with a little bit of effort raised up.
"I am glad that you and the troopers are fraternising, officer," she said to him. Many clones began to abandon the hangar, talking with each other or wanting to return to their personal training. There was not much to do in a spaceship except training and talking.
"You are the girl from Kamino, haven't seen you since I entered here. Nice to meet you, I am Anakin Skywalker," he offered his hand for a handshake and she accepted it. He looked young and SCC-01 assumed that he was probably a minor officer in the Republic, being here for supervision.
"I am sorry for not being accessible for the last week, some things had to be taken care of."
She still questioned herself why he had broken up the presentation, but there was no point in asking that question now, too many days had happened and holding a grudge against him for that would be irrational, but so satisfying…
Maybe for that reason so many were irrational, because it was satisfying to lose itself in the irrational behaviour and emotions, maybe she could feel better if she irrationally hated him for what happened, blaming him for the punishment and for the consequences.
But that is not who she was, she had always tried to be rational as the only way of life, as the only correct way to understand life.
How had it begun? Probably when she understood how society worked, a meritocracy was a system where everyone had the same opportunities to succeed by having access to education and other basic infrastructures, by the state forcing everything including itself to work under the premises of not discrimination and equality.
But meritocracy had a trick to it, those with money would always have more opportunities, those benefited from genetics would always have more opportunities, geniuses would with ease obtain what they desire.
Meritocracy is not a perfect system, but it is a good system, it is about democratizing the opportunities of succeeding in life so not only those born with good luck could succeed. That's why she became rational, because she understood the system that allowed her to succeed in life.
Be rational, be submissive, respect your superiors, destroy your competition, get closer to the people that were far better than you and most importantly hide your mistakes.
Her first life, her second life, her third life. A corporate slave, a child soldier, a slave soldier.
Rationality, submission, respect to her superiors, destroying competition, getting closer to those who are better than you and hiding her true nature. Those had been the rules that were common to her three lifes, nothing had changed and yet everything was so different.
"I can understand that, what is your name?"
"SCC-01, sir."
Anakin showed a very visible face of sadness but he did not comment any further on the matter.
"I will call you Ne'tra for now then"
"Ne'tra? Black in mando'a. Why?"
"Because you are designed based on Mandalorians and your armor is black and white, not a very sophisticated name but it should be good enough for communication. I can't imagine calling you Supreme Clone Commander every time I have to gain your attention."
He laughed, putting his right hand behind his head. She understood the necessity of easy communication and having actual names helped to do that.
"If it helps you I am fine with it, might I ask your rank inside the Republic?"
"I am a Jedi."
"A Jedi? I am sorry but I don't know what rank is that inside the Republic."
"You don't know what the Jedi Order is?"
"All my studies had been centered around military, political and economic matters, the Kaminoans considered that it was unnecessary to learn much about the galaxy as there was more important matters to study."
"How are you supposed to serve a Republic you don't know anything about?"
"We had been created to be loyal to the Republic, no matter its form, structure, ideas or actions."
"If I ordered you to kill someone… you would do it immediately? Without a second thought?"
"That is correct."
"I will argue that the Jedi Order is basically the protectors of the Republic, similar to the Clone Army in the sense that we are here to protect the republic, but we do not follow orders blindly, we are neutral actors that seek moral purity and help those that need help. You could call our actions to be for the common good and without intention of gaining any benefit. We help to feed planets that have famines, we interfere against corrupt governments that oppress the people… but that is usually the funny part, most of times we are tasked with boring duties like protecting VIP's of the Republic, being ambassadors of the Republic, diplomats in conflict of interests, assistants in local development and more."
"So the Jedi Order is some sort of Elite force of the Republic?"
"Technically, yes. But we are independent from the Republic."
SCC-01 thought about the KGB and the CIA, technically independent from their governments, though many times would have elite forces in their hands for special operations. And if the duties he had described could be associated with any organization she knew it would definitely be the Intelligence Agencies of the superpowers in her world.
So she was being escorted by the equivalent of an agent of the CIA, she did not know if she should be scared of the possible authority this man could hold.
"Might I ask what rank you have inside the Jedi Order?"
Anakin showed a little bit of discomfort. He did not like that type of question because it reminded him of how his master would refuse to allow him to take the trails to become a knight, it felt humiliating but he could not do much about it.
"I am a Padawan, soon to become knight."
"And… What do those ranks mean?"
ARC-0001 stood still looking at the Padawan like a stoic statue, he was with his armor on some centimeters lower than the padawan but at least twenty centimeters taller than SCC-01, he imposed to Anakin eeriness but not enough to ask him to stop or move away.
"Usually at the age of three, more or less, kids with force sensitivity would be brought to the Jedi Temple and begun training into our ways. At the age of twelve or fourteen, depending on how well their studies would go, the younglings would become padawans and they can remain at that rank for decades, all depending if they can pass the trials. A knight is immediately the rank after and to become a Master you would need to train successfully a padawan.The logic is simple but to ascend from padawan to knight, decades can pass and to become a master… not all jedi are capable of becoming one."
SCC-01 runned through her head the information, it felt so alien to her everything he had said but some terms appeared to be similar to her past world, it almost sounded like a religious group. Is the Republic a theocracy? That should not make sense.
"Mind I ask what is force sensitivity?"
"Do you want the theoretical or the practical explanation, Ne'tra?"
She raised her eyebrows, "A practical one?"
She began to panic as suddenly her feets no longer were on the floor, the ARC tensed himself, not knowing what was happening, Anakin on the contrary was laughing a little bit, doing a bad job in keeping any semblance of professionalism.
"How?! Please, Padawan Skywalker put me on the floor!"
Anakin kindly put her on her feet with a slow movement of his hand. The remaining clones in the hangar were surprised by this, it was something they had never seen in their life, no different from magic in their eyes, and in SCC-01's eyes too.
"For those that had never seen the abilities of a force user it will always be lies, for that reason is better to go directly to the demonstration. Hope you enjoyed the flight."
She did not.
"I had Padawan Skywalker, but please do not ever repeat that with me unless I request it personally."
Anakin put on a smug face at the sight of SCC-01 being agitated after being put to fly. Obi Wan was too paranoid about the clone army. Where he saw a possible threat, Anakin saw an adolescent that did not know anything about the most basic things of the galaxy. For him it felt like being the bigger brother among these thousands of clones. At first it was not like that, they treated him like he was the Supreme Chancellor but soon his naive charisma made the clones treat him like a friend instead of a superior.
SCC-01 was not different from them, she was a slave, a clone, but even then she was a human and he understood how they felt, maybe for that reason he was able to be so friendly with them.
Maybe it was for the best for Obi Wan to send him with the clone legion.
"I will not, do not worry, Ne'tra."
His smile angered her a little bit, because it was the same stupid smile she saw in those naive idiots that would always cause trouble to the company or the army. But he was her superior so she had to treat him with respect.
"Thank you, Padawan Skywalker."
"You don't need to use my surname or rank in the Jedi Order, we are not a military faction, military etiquette is not needed to be used."
She did not know if she should treat him by his name. In her past two lives using the surname was a sign of respect, did that logic not apply to this galaxy? She wondered if she would have more cultural shocks, or it was just that he was an anomaly.
She did not like anomalies.
"Would you mind if I asked something?"
SCC-01 nodded.
"Why choose the 501st to do the march instead of the first legion? I am not criticizing the choice, but I found it rather interesting, and no-one has had an answer for me."
SCC-01 thought of the Colonel that gave her the nutrition bar, he had been demoted to Captain as a punishment. It was a harsh punishment, and she could not do much to help him, but she could give the 501st the honor of becoming a legend for the Republic, the first Legion to deploy in galactic history.
It was stupid, for the action of one she gave the entire legion the benefit. But what else could she do? What other 'gift' could she give to them? The answer was none—this was the only way to repay the Colonel for the nutrition bar.
"The 501st Legion is one of our more excellent legions, while the first legion is the best legion, I believe in propaganda. The 501st will probably be in many important battles in the future and I believe that presenting them as the first legion to land in Coruscant will gain them a name, and help establish them as a legend. It is all about propaganda."
"The same would not work for the First Legion?"
"The first legion will stay on Coruscant as its guard, and under no circumstance would I allow the galactic capital to be under a threat of invasion. So, no, they would not serve the same purposes."
Anakin nodded, understanding the logic behind her actions.
"I am sure the 501st will be remembered in history."
SCC-01 agreed, propaganda was part of the war, and she would make the 501st the public heroic face of the Clone Army in exchange for the nutrition bar.
A fair trade agreement and her way to thank the Colonel.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine was on the balcony of the Senate, thousands of senators both in holographic or physical presence were also present in the place where the acclamator would land. Ten of thousands of rich civilians had come to see the spectacle also. For one month the Galaxy had been in flames for the discovery of the Clone Army.
The separatists reaction to the discovery was to create their own 'private' army, the militarists gained even more strength in the Republic due to these events, the pacifists now were a somber shadow of what they once were. Under the leadership of Bail Organa they tried to regain strength, calling for the renunciation of the Clone Army in order to make the separatists de-militarize, but this had only made them lose even more senators that now saw the pacific cause to be over.
Now the two major factions were those that preferred the situation to stay as a cold war, and those that wanted to immediately invade the separatist planets.
The Acclamator, a spaceship no one has ever seen in the galaxy, began to land. It was a massive spaceship with a triangular form painted grey and red in honor of the Republic they were supposed to be loyal to—it was a magnificent view.
The spaceship, after some dramatic minutes, landed. Every movement was streamed to the galaxy, no one knew how this clone army looked, or what arms they had. They did not even know if they were humans.
For one month this had been a debate not only about if it existed or not, but if it existed how it would look.
The doors at the bottom of the Acclamator opened and a massive ramp advanced until it touched the durasteel ground. The tension was in the air.
A single clone began advancing, its white armor was impeccable, this clone carried a singular banner, reading 501st Legion of the Clone Army. Behind him, the Colonels and Captains of the Legion together with the staff members marched, and behind.
Thousands of clones began marching, divided in companies, they did a military parade, their rifles on their shoulders and their free hand doing a military salute looking at where the Supreme Chancellor was. A sea of white armored clones would pour without an end. Their look, similar to the Mandalorians, gained the attention of everyone.
But that was dwarfed soon by the machines of war that never had been seen before, hundreds of AT-TE marched, AT-RT walked on the sides showing a different variant of the clone armor in those driving it.
The militarists were amazed, because they saw glory and military power in this legion, something they had not seen in the entirety of their lives. It was like a dream come true.
For the pacifist, this was a nightmare. Deep in their hearts they desired for the Clone Army to be unimpressive, to the point of humiliation, or maybe them not existing at all, being a lie. But they were not. The military parade showed strength and discipline. Thousands of legs moving at the unison, their march making a loud sound that made their hearts synchronize with it. Like if war had become part of their own beings by just seeing this army.
Everyone seeing the Clone Army, believed it was formidable.
But SCC-01 did not know it, she did not know the expectations of the Republic, she, who was used to seeing military parades did not know what would be the reaction of the common citizen to this. So she tried to do the most impressive military march she could.
The hangars of the Acclamator opened their doors, one hundred LAATc begun pouring from them with carrying the TX-130 tanks to the side of the marching legion, like a perfect opera the tanks were deployed with millimetric precision and contrary to the expectation of disorganizing the military march it fitted immediately, like the tanks had been there from the star.
Another hundred LAAT left the hangars, with their doors opened they showed the squadrons in them to the public, a military march in land and air. Overwhelmed with emotion, the adults and kids acted like children at the sight of this sensational military march, each step taken by the marching legion made them feel strong and proud, as if the military power displayed by the cloned legion could solve all the problems they had.
A holo-camera pointed at the Supreme Chancellor accompanied by Grand Master Yoda as a LAAT approached their position. The Senate Guard did not react even if it could be noted that they did not expect this. Soon the LAAT reached the balcony, opening its doors and revealing its occupants, an ARC trooper, ten clones, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, the Clone Commander of the 501st and the Supreme Clone Commander 01.
Palpatine smiled at Anakin before centering his attention at the unknown figure in charge of the Clone Army, he moved forward until she was in the balcony, she did a military salute at the Supreme Chancellor.
"Supreme Clone Commander Null Zero at your service Supreme Chancellor."
Palpatine smiled, the SCC program was created to test the future Moff program he wanted to implement in his future Empire, he never actually expected the Kaminoans to make them actually the head of the clone army. Did it matter? No, did it change his plans? No, did it amuse him? Yes.
Behind that scene the thousands of clones continued its march, the LAAT, the tanks, the self propelled artillery pieces, the thousands of troopers. It formed a powerful image as it marched in front of the senate.
Palpatine smiled at her with a genuine smile, she was the last piece needed for his victory, all the pieces were set, now it was the time to see them fall.
"I hope your service is not required, Supreme Commander, but nonetheless your loyalty will be appreciated, no matter what happens."
When the time comes, when the Jedi are exterminated and he can create the Empire he had planned, her service and loyalty would become obsolete. Thought Palpatine to himself, as he hid his inner thoughts from Master Yoda, who looked with worried eyes to the Supreme Clone Commander.
It reminds him of the old Army of the Republic. He hoped that like in the past their service would mean helping the Jedi Order to purge forever the Sith threat to the galaxy.
She could be the salvation or damnation for both the Sith and the Jedi.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
How miserable you have become, not that it does matter now that you are in another Galaxy under a new God. What a cruel God honestly, I offered reincarnation to the mortals, this God instead… eat the souls.
It would be sad for a person that had been under my… protection, to die eaten by another God.
I will give you a small gift, a repayment for the situation I have put you into.