Chapter Text
The day Chester was to meet the Chancellor dawned with a spectacular orange-and-yellow glow that suffused the sky from horizon to horizon. This was an ill omen. The rain began to fall not long after; an acidic downpour that kept the copper ornamentation on Coruscant’s spires bright.
The meeting was scheduled for shortly after the Senate opened to the public that morning, which gave them only a couple of hours to prepare.
Chester gave Plo an acknowledging glance as he let himself in. She was sitting on her couch, looking out at the drifts of rain that sailed past her window. Deep in thought, clearly. Plo passed her a nutrient bar and a fresh meiloorun for breakfast; she barely acknowledged these too.
“This is the job of a far more senior officer,” she said after she’d finished mechanically working her way through the two. “I suppose I’m intimidated.”
“I would be far more surprised if you were not,” said Plo. He sat beside her on the couch, offering reassurance through the Force. “It took me many years to stop feeling similarly when my missions took me into the halls of government, and these were largely planned missions, interacting with governments a step down from the Republic itself. My masters had faith in me then, and I have faith in you now.”
With that said, it was a little surprising that the woman who had faced down a Sith Lord might consider a flock of mere politicians intimidating. The Senate could indeed make things very difficult for her, but they did have one thing going for them: the lack of dark-side lightning. Plo diplomatically refrained from saying this out loud.
She tipped him the ghost of a smile. “I’ve been on missions like this before, but never alone. And the Republic is… larger than most of those entities. And…” she shook her head, frowning. “I’m not usually inclined to be nervous. But I’m particularly on edge about this one, and I’m not sure why.”
Plo frowned a little beneath his mask. “In an anxious way, or beyond that?”
“More than I would think would be warranted,” she said. “It’s like there was something in the reference material Padmé gave me that I haven’t quite figured out yet.”
Nerves, then, more than likely. Plo reached out into the Force, just in case; but as always there wasn’t a lot that could be felt over the creeping cold of the Darkness that had settled over Coruscant for so long now.
He knew better than to take the absence of a warning for granted. The premonitions born of the Force had never been entirely reliable, and so much less so these days.
“Hmm,” he said, thoughtful. “There is no harm in taking such a feeling seriously, given the circumstances.”
She lifted and dropped a shoulder. “It’s probably nothing, but anything that keeps me alert, I’ll take.”
“A wise approach,” he said. “It is almost time for us to depart. Do you have everything you need?”
She nodded and gathered herself up. “At least they don’t think I’m Song Tulin anymore.”
She adjusted the hem of her uniform, freshly restored from her various misadventures. Her fingers went to the series of pips on her collar, resting on each as if reassuring herself they were still there, then to the insignia on her chest. “I’m regretting not getting kidnapped in my dress uniform. First impressions and all that.”
They had opted for the genuine Starfleet article for her initial meeting with the Chancellor, since she was doing so as a semi-official representative of her culture. The new outfits had been packed neatly away, reserved for making an impression on the rest of the Senate that afternoon.
She patted at her hair one last time, then turned to Plo. “All right. Let’s do this.”
The rain got worse, not better, as they climbed into the speeder that would take them to the Senate, droids managing the cases containing the multiple outfits Senator Amidala had provided. Chester herself seemed embarrassed by them. “I’ve never needed anything but my uniform,” she’d told Plo. “And I appreciate Senator Amidala’s assistance, but my god, it throws me off that the Senate apparently views simplicity as a liability. I’m going to feel like a curiosity in both those other getups.” She made a face at that, something twisted and unpleasant working through her presence as she did.
The Senate domes were almost invisible until they were on top of them in the steady dark drenching rain, which made it feel much more like late evening than mid-morning. They stepped out, down the line of Senate guards who’d arrived to greet them━to Plo’s evaluating eye it was more than usual, though whether that was the Chancellor giving a visiting emissary from an unknown power due accord, or concern about said emissary having a historically high bounty on her head was unclear━and into the shelter of the Senate building itself. The droids split off and trundled toward Senator Amidala’s offices, towing the luggage with them.
From experience, Plo knew how difficult navigating the building could be. He was perfectly happy to follow the guard assigned as their guide as he led them deeper into the labyrinthine corridors, ornate and badly-lit. Chester followed quietly behind, and the sense of her he got was someone carefully but sternly ordering their thoughts. Her nervousness was filed away, her presence smoothing into the iron calm he’d felt from her back in the early days of their acquaintance by the time they made the last turn and found themselves outside the Chancellor’s office.
The door to the Chancellor’s office was bracketed by two tall Naboo palms, and by a full squad of the Coruscant Guard. Plo recognised Commander Fox by the armor, more red than white, and by the sharp, incisive sense of his attention in the Force.
“Good morning, Commander,” he said, and ushered Chester forward. “May I introduce our extragalactic visitor, Commander Diane Chester, of the United Federation of Planets’ Starfleet? Chester, this is Marshal Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard.”
Chester smiled genuinely at Fox, and offered her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.
Commander Fox only hesitated a short moment before shaking her hand. “You too, Commander,” he said, his sharp Force presence warming with quick approval. “I’ve heard good things.”
He nodded to the Guardsmen by the door, who released the lock on the Chancellor’s office, and ushered them through. The door swished shut behind them.
Sheev Palpatine, Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, rose from his enormous desk with a smile. “Good morning!” he exclaimed, striding across the office, his arms spread a little in welcome. “Such a shame about the rain, isn’t it? I hope you two have stayed safe and dry?”
“Indeed we have,” said Plo. He gave Palpatine a polite bow, and stepped aside for the formal introductions.
Chancellor Palpatine shook Chester’s hand with unusual enthusiasm, and his wispy little presence in the Force bloomed white with unadulterated good humor. “Welcome to the Galactic Republic, Commander Diane Chester━although I am given to understand the greeting is a little late at this point. I must apologize most strenuously for the treatment you have received so far. It seems our military has gotten overeager in our current regrettable state.”
He ushered Chester over to the couches and low table kept for guests, where an expensive teaset was laid out fresh beside a warm yellow lamp. Two fine porcelain cups for the humans, and one well-formed glass tumbler with a decorative printed paper straw to fit into Plo’s mask. Some politicians forgot to account for less convenient physiologies. Palpatine had never been one of them.
“Do you have a preference for certain flavors or styles of tea, my dear?” The Chancellor fussed a little over the spread, straightening out a wrinkle in the delicately-patterned tablecloth. “I confess a fondness to the flavor profiles of my homeworld, Naboo, which often lean somewhat toward the sweet or fruity end of the spectrum. But you needn’t feel obliged to share it, of course. We have tea blends from all over the Republic here on Coruscant, and while we may not be able to give you a taste of home we can perhaps make a good attempt?”
“Most of us who join Starfleet do so because of a fascination with trying new things,” Chester said, smiling. She took the offered seat, relaxing into the plush cushions with an appreciative glimmer in her eyes. “I would be delighted to sample your homeworld’s tea, Chancellor.”
“Ah, then perhaps a selection is helpful!” Palpatine inspected the two-tiered tray, taking five small decorative jars of tea leaves from the upper tray. “Here, my dear Commander, we have muja leaf and a fine Theed grey; these are a little on the astringent side, with a slight sweet berry aftertaste on the muja. This next is a somewhat floral sweet blend from the Lake District, where I grew up━best with a generous helping of raw sugar, but of course you didn’t hear that from me.” He winked, his presence full of humor, and pointed out the remaining two as herb and fruit mixes, fairly sweet on their own. “And for Master Plo Koon, I believe your preference was the Alderaanian peach, was it not? I apologize, I have been so busy with the matters of the war it may have slipped my mind.”
“Not at all, Chancellor, you are correct.” It was not a strong preference━Plo lacked a number of the taste receptors necessary to appreciate the subtleties of tea━but the stronger flavor of the Alderaanian style made it an easy favorite to nominate.
“Excellent,” said Palpatine, his smile fading only a little in concentration as he poured the three separate teas to steep. “How have you found your stay so far, Commander Chester? The, er, the unpleasantness with Admiral Tarkin aside. I’ve heard you had a terrible encounter with the leader of the Separatist Confederacy━Count Dooku. I was most relieved that you managed to rescue yourself, and not only that but a number of our brave soldiers as well. Your Starfleet must be very lucky to have you.”
Chester had selected the muja, and the description of the encounter with Dooku drew a chuckle from her. “You are very kind, Chancellor. I suppose I will seem pathologically modest if I say I am in no way extraordinary, and that such encounters are well within the scope of my expected duties, but it’s the truth.”
It was a bald statement of fact, and her slight sheepishness only drove that home. The light in Palpatine’s eyes practically twinkled.
“Goodness! It must be quite an adventurous calling, then. Well-suited for the companionship of our Jedi friends, perhaps.” He smiled at Plo for just a moment. “They too lead very interesting lives, although I must say it all seems very strenuous from the outside. You know, when I was much younger I envied that sort of life, though of course I now realize that I would have ill suited it. Too wilful and stubborn, of course.” He laughed, gently self-deprecating. “Jedi train their entire lives to fulfill the calling of their Order. Is it much the same for Starfleet?”
Chester shook her head. “For many of us, it’s a lifelong dream━but lifelong training? No. And, except during wartime, our starships have large numbers of civilian personnel and families; we’re explorers first and foremost.”
Palpatine listened intently, fascination bright in his blue eyes. “It sounds wonderful,” he said, wistful. “I have had Admiral Tarkin barking on at me about this unknown, potentially dangerous military force━you know how the man is, Master Koon━which I confess was the impetus behind my arranging this meeting. However, it sounds to me as if your military activities are a secondary function━perhaps having grown out of the necessity of self-defense?” The wrinkles between his wispy eyebrows deepened. “Even those who love peace must defend themselves, at times.”
“We pride ourselves on having moved beyond bloodshed as a way of settling conflict,” said Chester, with a polite agreeing nod. “Unfortunately, circumstances do arise on occasion that have required us to retain some capacity for self-defense.” She lifted and dropped a shoulder in the resigned shrug Plo had grown used to seeing from her. “Yet, I find, those circumstances are rare indeed. Goodwill and diplomacy can accomplish far more than many people━dare I say especially people of Admiral Tarkin’s training━expect.”
“You are quite right on that account,” said Palpatine, emphatic. “I feel duty-bound to defend the Admiral somewhat━his, hm, aggression is a very cultural trait━but I am from Naboo, where we prize peaceful resolution where possible. It grieves me a great deal that peaceful resolution to this war has not been an option.”
Chester smiled a little into her tea. “I, too, am well familiar with that kind of aggression as a cultural trait, Chancellor,” she said. “The other powers in our galaxy with whom we have treaties━among them, the Klingon and Romulan Empires━at times manifest a very similar kind of thinking. Our alliances have taught all parties concerned a certain flexibility.”
“I see,” said Palpatine, and sipped his tea distractedly. “Would you mind terribly if I asked a little about these other galactic powers? It is fascinating to think of a galaxy divided into multiple discrete and largely equal powers rather than a single primary authority. Here we have Hutt Space, of course, but that is not so much a single entity as a collection of functional fiefdoms…” he trailed off, and waved his hands a little helplessly. “The Republic has existed for so long, you understand.”
“Of course. It’s a remarkably long history, by our standards.” She tilted him a slightly thoughtful look. “The Klingons are a warrior culture,” she said. “Very powerful in certain parts of our galaxy. I know our insistence on peaceful resolution seems almost comically impractical to them, but the friendship between our peoples is powerful nevertheless. The Romulans are a secretive people, and we know less about one another than we do with the Klingons. Nevertheless, they have profound ties to one of our founding members, Vulcan.”
Palpatine’s smile went wry. “‘Profound’ typically means ‘complicated’ in politics, I find. Is that the case here?”
“Everything about the Romulans is complicated, Chancellor,” said Chester with a little smile. “They like to keep it that way━and the Vulcans, our oldest allies, if anything outdo them in that regard.”
“I see,” said Palpatine, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “I doubt that we will be making diplomatic overtures until this wretched war is over, but I, and a number of my colleagues, will be very interested in doing so once it becomes feasible. The cultural exchange potential alone is simply stunning.”
“We welcome the opportunity to make new friends, and there is much that the Republic has to offer,” said Chester, sincere.
“That’s very good to hear, Commander.” Palpatine’s smile grew wider, crow’s-feet wrinkles deepening around his eyes. “Perhaps you could tell me a little more about your people and the usual fashion in which such negotiations are conducted? I hope the Senate will be as eager as I am to establish friendly relations, but I have to admit there are factions which may make it a hard sell.”
Chester’s expression stilled, in a way that sent alarm sparking through Plo’s mind. “Of course,” she said quietly. “I would have to leave most of these things to the diplomats, Chancellor.”
Palpatine nodded, understanding. “Of course. But there must be some things you could comment on.”
Chester fixed him with a hard look, her eyes sharp and suddenly cold. “Chancellor, if I may be blunt,” kindly do not, thought Plo, but there was no stopping her now, “respect for sentient rights and life are cornerstones of the Federation’s shared values. The nonexistent legal status of the majority of the GAR will be a major sticking point; I understand all efforts to address this have failed to pass the Senate.”
“Regrettably, this is true.” The Chancellor’s expression went somber, the light dying in his eyes. He glanced up at Plo. “Three times we have tried, haven’t we? The main problem is that Republic citizenship, strictly speaking, does not exist in its own right━it is based on citizenship of the member states of the Republic.”
Chester’s eyebrows twitched upward. “That seems like rather a large bureaucratic oversight in a Republic this large and this old.”
“Does it?” Palpatine gave her a resigned smile. “There are two established paths to gaining Republic citizenship, and thus far these have served us adequately. When a system joins the Republic, its citizens are automatically afforded Republic citizenship. If an individual, or a group of individuals, seeks citizenship, they may settle upon a Republic member world and pursue that system’s citizenship; upon the conclusion of this process, they gain Republic citizenship as well.”
Chester gave him a tight, tucked in smile. “It is simply that my people have learned that systems which can absorb the unexpected tend to be a great deal more durable. As happenings in space go, the sudden appearance of several million individuals without a homeworld is not even terribly unexpected.”
Palpatine raised his eyebrows. “Is it? Dear me. I cannot say I am aware of this sort of thing having happened in this galaxy before.”
“I expect you are having a great deal of difficulty with refugees, then,” said Chester, a sympathetic note in her voice and a similarly sympathetic expression on her face. Every inch of her body spoke of understanding for a difficult situation. Only her presence rippled with a long slow wave of condescension bordering on contempt. “That is, refugees not of your own worlds. So often our neighbors’ problems spill over.”
“To be frank, the vast majority of the refugees currently in our systems are citizens of Republic member worlds.” Palpatine sighed, and took a subdued sip of his tea. “There is a pathway to retaining citizenship for subjects of the Separatist worlds in place, but it has not been overflowing with applicants. The issue of the clones is something else entirely━they would have to be granted citizenship by a Republic member world. And while we do have a number of members willing to do so, the Separatist crisis has inflamed existing tensions to boiling point. Those systems which do not have the resources to take on highly-trained soldiers en masse are unwilling to grant potential future enemies control and influence over the GAR.”
“Perhaps one could recognize them as their own entity,” said Chester. “They certainly have their own distinct culture and identity; it’s only right to have their interests clearly represented.”
“One would think so, yes.” Palpatine shook his head. “The objection is much the same.”
Chester sighed. “As you can see, Chancellor, our respective governments’ views on such things do seem to diverge a certain, but significant, amount. We leave these things to the diplomats for a reason. I am only a rather inexperienced starship officer.”
Palpatine gave her an encouraging smile; the glimmer snuck back into his eyes. “You have done a fine job so far, Commander. I would not underestimate your abilities. Isn’t that right, Master Koon?”
“Indeed,” Plo said. He reached out through the Force, but, as he’d suspected, there was no sense of uncertainty at all in Chester’s presence. Clearly, she’d sensed herself building up to another one of those difficult ideological arguments, and backed down before she ended up embroiled in a debate with the leader of the entire Republic.
“I appreciate your courtesy and your patience, Chancellor,” said Chester, with a smile of her own.
“You are very welcome!” Palpatine’s smile grew wider. “To be honest with you, it is a relief to speak so candidly about the situation. Too many of my colleagues have been swayed by fear and uncertainty of recent years, and the values of peace and equality for all have rather fallen by the wayside.”
“Well, speaking otherwise seems to get very little done.” Chester sipped her tea. “But I can certainly understand the toll of fear and uncertainty. There is very little else so corrosive.”
“Regrettably, very true. But all one can do is stand against the tide, and work toward a better future, where fear and uncertainty may be set aside.” Palpatine poured himself a fresh cup of tea, and added a generous spoonful of sugar, winking at them as he stirred.
“Indeed,” said Chester. “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice, as one of my people’s philosophers once said.”
“A wonderful sentiment,” said Palpatine. “I understand that Senator Amidala has set up a meeting for you with the Loyalist Committee this afternoon? You will find yourself in good company with those particular people.”
Chester set her teacup down and inclined her head. “Thank you, Chancellor. It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope we have the opportunity to do so again in the future.”
Palpatine’s eyes twinkled. “Likewise, Commander. With luck, I shall get the chance to follow your career with great interest.”
“That went rather well,” said Plo as they made their way to Padme’s offices. “It was wise to back away from that line of questioning.”
“What was I going to tell him?” said Chester, very softly, her lips barely moving. “That those sentiments are exactly what’s going to tip this Republic over the edge and into the abyss, and usher in an authoritarian regime? It’s true, but not teatime conversation. At least he’s not the usual sort to grab power himself. Or, if he is, he’s a much better actor than most wannabe strongmen.”
“Refraining from such sentiments was a good idea then,” he said, matching her whisper. “And in the present as well.”
She glanced at him with raised eyebrows.
“The listening devices in the Senate building, while technically illegal, tend toward the very good,” he added.
Chester blinked, chagrined. “Understood. I’ll behave.”
They reached Padme’s offices at last, which was a relief, and Chester was bustled off by several of Padme’s attendants to dress for the morning’s visits while Padme pulled Plo aside. “How was the meeting with the Chancellor?”
“It went as well as could be expected.” Plo exhaled, noting the slight rattle of his rebreather. Time for a filter replacement.
Padme gave him a worried look. “That badly?”
Plo wondered what Anakin might have been telling her about Chester’s activities. “Not badly, no,” he said. “It was courteous and to the point, though the Chancellor saw fit to press her on what her people might do should the Republic make diplomatic overtures. The resulting conversation was… heavier than it could have been. Most especially when the Commander raised the issue of the rights of the clone soldiers.”
“Oh dear,” said Padme. “He doesn’t like it when I do that. How did he take it?”
“Courteously enough,” said Plo, “but I am concerned, particularly ahead of this evening’s festivities. I am still more concerned that she gave me a rather unvarnished further assessment in the hall on the way here; it will surely get back to him. At least, she discounted the likelihood that he was the one likely to rise to power should a coup occur.”
“Oh dear ,” said Padme. She pressed her fingertips together, breathing in slow and deep. “There’s little doubt it will get back to the Chancellor; I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I ever saw him miss something like that.”
“I don’t doubt it,” said Plo. “Given what she has told me about her Federation, it’s entirely possible that she is so accustomed to freedom of speech, even in wartime, being an unquestionable right that she thought nothing of assessing the Chancellor’s willingness to commit treason in a public corridor.”
“At least she thought it was low,” said Padme, a little faintly.
There was a slight commotion at the door to the personal chambers of the office, and Chester reemerged, dressed in the crisp black and white formal garb Padme had suggested. A handful of flustered stylists trailed in her wake. “No, thank you,” she was telling the first of them, very firmly, “but this is quite, quite sufficient, thank you .”
Makeup was worn by all species and genders in the Senate: one ought to look one’s best while representing the homeworld being a standard all could agree upon. Chester’s pale skin had been evened out, her cheeks pinkened subtly, her lashes darkened and her lips painted in the more naturalistic style favored by Core worlds such as Chandrila and Alderaan. This seemed perfectly sufficient to Plo. Beauty standards varied widely across the human systems, of course, and this was Naboo’s contingent. Plo looked to Padme.
“It’s… simple,” said Padme, in the tones of someone being supportive against their better judgment. “The foundation suits your skin tone well.”
“Simple suits me fine,” said Chester. “I don’t want to give people the wrong impression.”
Padme stifled a snort. “You could paint your entire face red and the Senate would simply assume it was ceremonial. Perhaps, at least, I could convince you to put up with some eyeliner to intensify your gaze?”
Chester hesitated, then nodded, and then projected very clearly at Plo that she never bothered with this kind of thing because all too often it ended up with her covered in mud, or blood, or the thousand and one effluents of a malfunctioning planetary environmental system.
“Wonderful.” Padme beckoned over one of the hovering stylists. “Makeup is a tool, Commander, and sometimes a weapon. Think of it as a mission, if it helps,” she said, smiling, “and on this particular mission the dramatic eyeliner is your sword. I’d like to see Tarkin’s assorted allies look you dead in the eyes like this.”
“On most of the missions to which I’ve been attached,” said Chester, rather grimly, “the makeup and formalwear have not exactly survived. Did Anakin tell you about the plant, Senator?”
“He did,” said Padme. “While we are certainly not at a loss for dramatics in the Senate, Commander, we do have a distinct lack of carnivorous plants.”
“That is true,” admitted Chester, and submitted herself to the care of the stylists with only the slightest of sighs.