The people of the Republic tune in to the session from across the galaxy.
They watch from diners and bars, public places, homes, anywhere the holonet broadcast plays.
Some pause in their work, a little curious.
Some pull it up with clear intent.
Some watch for no reason other than convenience.
It isn’t often that a Senate session is so widely viewed.
The people are, as they so often tend to be, busy with their own lives.
To keep up with the Senate would require time and commitment most cannot spare, and nearly all do not desire to.
They trust that the status quo will continue in spite of, or perhaps because of, the obvious corruption and lavish wealth of their representatives.
For some, their conditions are terrible, nearly unbearable.
For others, their lives continue in stability, if not comfort.
For yet others, the status quo suits them very well.
There is nothing to be done regardless.
The Senate is corrupt and there is snow on the mountains of Alderaan.
It is in their nature.
But still, they watch.
They watch for they have heard that Mandalore is coming to speak.
Mandalore, feared and powerful, isolated for more than a generation now.
These violent warriors, so unchanged by the civilization of a thousand years. Stubborn and, if the tabloids are to be believed, plotting something. Dangerous and, if certain Senators are to be believed, willing to agree to diplomatic talks.
The people watch, already losing interest, as the Chancellor goes through the motions of introducing the day’s agenda.
Mandalore has sent a representative.
The Jedi Order wishes to make a short statement.
-
If the people could see into one of the side rooms used for foreign dignitaries, they would see a Mandalorian and a Jedi.
An odd pairing, for all their storied history.
They would see a Mandalorian, pacing and angry.
They would see a Jedi, steady and calm.
They would see exactly what they expect.
As it is, they do not see the Mandalorian and the Jedi.
They do not see the Jedi’s supportive squeeze and tired smile.
They do not see the Mandalorian’s determined nod before she dons a helmet traced with vengeance and justice.
As it is, they see a Mandalorian, tense and stubborn and dangerous.
They see a strong enemy, they see a possible ally, they see a desirable trading partner.
Most of all, they see a curiosity.
-
The Chancellor begins with a genial smile. “First on the agenda, the Senate welcomes the Representative from the Mandalore System. Feel free to remove your helmet, I assure you, the Senate holds no ill intentions. You are perfectly safe here.” She crosses her arms, disgust clear in her every muscle.
The Chancellor’s smile does not waver. “Very well, please introduce yourself for the record.”
“Thank you. Chancellor. Senators.” Many cannot help but notice the way she grinds out their titles. “I am Arla Fett, of Clan Fett and House Mereel. I stand before you on behalf of Mand’alor Jaster Mereel of Clan and House Mereel.”
The Senators shift and shuffle in the background.
Some recognize the significance, although none know how to interpret it.
They can only make guesses.
The Republic’s knowledge of Mandalorian Houses and Clans is one of many things lost to time.
“I have come to address recent actions by this body with respect to the Independent Mandalore Sector.” She speaks with barely contained fury. A few Senators in sight of the holocam shift uncomfortably.
“Lady Fett.” Someone interrupts, the holocam does not waver from her helmet. “I mean no offense but here in the Republic we conduct ourselves-”
A slight shift of attention in all she gives, tilting her helmet not towards the source of the interruption but to the Chancellor.
“Chancellor.” She intones carefully, there is quietly sheathed danger in her voice. “I believe I was told I would be permitted to speak my message freely.”
“Lady Fett…”
“I am here to impart a message. Nothing more, nothing less.” Her voice is harsh.
Arla Fett is all that the Republic has come to expect from her people. She is violence, barely held back. She is Mandalore, on the precipice of war.
She is playing their game, strange and unaccustomed to it as she appears.
The Republic wonders.
The Chancellor makes his decision. “Senator, you have not been recognized. Please allow the Representative to continue…”
He pauses a moment and adds, “I would like to see my wife tonight, if you don’t mind.” to a polite smattering of laughter.
Fett tips her helmet in acknowledgement, she does not so much as chuckle. “As I was saying. The Mand’alor was deeply disturbed by the actions taken by members of this body to see him deposed.”
There are whispers across the galaxy, deposed? They had not heard of such a thing.
There is anger.
The Senate would risk war?
Over what?
Mandalore may be a threat, a dangerous one, but war… the people are not yet fearful enough of the enemy, they have not yet been reminded of the stories of wars of old, the holonews has not yet speculated and debated the necessity.
Most of all, the Republic has no army. Most of those watching from across the galaxy, from their different places and situations wish for nothing but the continuation of what is.
A quiet Mandalore, easily ignored if not listening to warmongers.
A steady continuation of life without disruption.
“Lady Fett, please refrain from making unfounded accusations upon the character of this esteemed body.” The Chancellor's offended voice rises above the massive din of overlapping protests.
She simply tilts her head slightly in acknowledgement.
“I will move on, I am not here to argue over petty details.” The Senators clearly do not agree that these are petty details but remain quiet. “I have come to address the reparations.”
“There were no reparations!”
“You insult us!”
“We are guilty of nothing deserving of reparations!”
Some in the audience note her fists clenched tight at her sides.
“Allow me to tell you a little about my people.” Her voice is deceptively calm and steady but anyone can see this is only an illusion. “We value children, there is nothing more important. To harm a child is the worst sin and worthy of the loss of one’s soul.”
The Senators reluctantly quiet down at the Chancellor’s bidding.
She continues, dangerously soft. “In giving us a child. In hurting a child. It cannot be called an insult. If you were Mandalorian you would be dar’manda several times over. You are not even worthy of that.”
The chamber is quiet, it feels like something is about to break.
Those watching across the galaxy hold their breaths, their minds racing with possibilities and explanations.
She takes a breath and the tension breaks with her words. “Mandalore will be recalling our embassy and its staff, small though it may be. We will have nothing to do with monsters. Further inquiries or questions may be directed to the commline for governments without formal relations. That is all.”
-
If the people could see into one of the side rooms used for foreign dignitaries, they would see a Mandalorian and a Jedi.
An odd pairing, for all their storied history.
They would see a Mandalorian giving the Jedi’s arm a supportive squeeze.
They would see a Jedi murmuring quiet reassurance with a small smile.
As it is, they do not see the Mandalorian and the Jedi.
They do not see the Jedi’s respectful bow.
They do not see the Mandalorian’s snort and wish for good hunting.
As it is, they see a Jedi, calm and unflappable and mysterious.
They see a constant companion, they see an unknowable ally, they see an incomprehensible power.
Most of all, they see a curiosity.
It takes some time for the session to continue.
Some resume their work, content in the knowledge Mandalore does not seem inclined to war and uninterested in whatever the Jedi have to say.
Some search the holonet, intent on finding answers.
Some turn to their companions, wondering aloud what it all means. What has the Senate done? The answers elude them and yet… a child. The Mandalorian said there was a child, that they were monsters for it.
They wonder, trying to put the pieces together, what it says about the Senate that Mandalore, violent and uncaring Mandalore, was so incensed.
No one finds the answers they seek.
Eventually the Chancellor manages to gain control of the body with a few firm words and promises that they will discuss this new development in an extended session after their already scheduled business is concluded.
“Thank you for your cooperation, now, our last item on the agenda. The Jedi Order has requested to speak with us.” He waves a dismissive and tired hand. “Please introduce yourself for the record before you begin.”
The tall Jedi has already piloted the pod out into the middle of the chamber. He offers the Senate a rather shallow bow and begins. “I am Jedi Master and Council Member Dooku. Before I address the reasons our Order has requested to come before you, I would like to tell you a story.”
At least one Senator in frame rolls their eyes at the prospect, another slumping further into a chair with a visible groan of frustration.
A few across the galaxy perk up, interested to hear what a Jedi story might sound like.
“This all happened less than a decade ago, far from the core, on a planet content in its obscurity. There was a child born, a little blessing upon his parents.”
He pauses for a moment.
“This child was loved, their second joy.”
The audience wonders where the story turns, there is no question that it will. The Jedi carries grief with him like a shroud.
“But not all was well, for the child would cry, heaving sobs that none could comfort. He would stare unblinkingly into the eyes of the elders, and some said he saw terrible things there. His brother claimed that he could move things without touching them, although none of the adults ever saw it. He often cried, upset by nothing, upset by everything.”
The people listen.
“His parents were at a loss, for they could find no way to comfort him. Their love could not overcome the exhaustion and fear of a child who cries and cries nearly without end.”
The Jedi pauses once again, steadying himself.
“One day, as they discussed what could be done for their blessing, there came a ship. It spluttered smoke and shook dangerously. From the ship came a young stranger, with strange robes and an even stranger object on his waist. It was an unusual thing for someone to make their way to this corner of space.”
“Many went to investigate and ensure that the young stranger was unhurt.” He gestures casually. “In their rush, the child was brought along. He did not cry, they were certain he would, and yet…”
“The little one simply stared, as he so often did, with unknowable truths in his gaze. The stranger did not flinch away or declare him wrong. He smiled, and, much to everyone’s bafflement, the little one smiled back.”
The Jedi smiles slightly at this, as if caught in a memory, before refocusing.
“It was then that one of the elders remembered the ancient tales of strange beings with great power, who once helped defend their planet in a time of great need. They inquired with the young stranger and he explained that he was something called a Jedi and that their blessing could be too. That his tears and his staring had an explanation and that there was a place he could be happy, a place with other children just as strange and loved as he.”
“He told them they had a choice to make. That he could take their child with him, to live a life they could only imagine. That if they wished he would leave them in peace, a few pieces of wisdom left behind to help.”
The people hold their breath.
“They looked at their blessing, staring with such wide fascinated eyes at the young stranger, and they knew there was no choice. Their little one was meant for something different, they would remember him, their strange, beloved little one.”
He takes a breath and they cannot look away.
“The young stranger left them with their memories and a single promise. That their little one would be loved and protected, that the Jedi would not abandon him, that they would see him safe and happy and cared for.”
The air seems to freeze in place.
“This body has rendered us oath-breakers.”
His gaze snaps coldly to the Chancellor’s pod.
“We have served the Republic with pride for millennia. We have faced great trials alongside the Republic and its people.” He continues, loud enough to be heard over the rising din of protest. “We had thought ourselves partners, in this great endeavor of justice and democracy. Clearly, we were naive.”
He pauses for a moment before moving on.
“The Jedi have always taken our oaths seriously. Our oaths to the Republic, our oaths to the Order, our oaths to our children. We are not slaves to the whims of the Senate. We are a people, a people who chose this path long ago because we saw that it was right and just.”
The people watch with baited breath. This will not end well, how can it?
“We are a people who will not stand for the sacrificing of our children to cover for the mistakes of this Senate. Our children are precious and loved, they are protected. They are not tools to be thrown to the mercy of our enemies at your convenience.”
He lets some of the remaining calm drop from his face, anger glinting in his eyes.
“Our children are not yours, they never have been, they never will be. The Jedi Order cannot continue to serve at the threat of our young ones, consider this our resignation, effective immediately.”
The chamber is deadly silent.
Bars and homes and public places all over the galaxy freeze in shocked silence.
Even the Senators don’t seem to know how to react.
How does one face the split of a partnership built over millennia?
How does one face the end?
“We apologize for the chaos this action will no doubt bring, and the suffering that will go unchecked in the aftermath. We are not certain… exactly how this will affect our mandate, or missions. We will reach out with answers as soon as possible, please know that we will not abandon the people of the Republic if we can help it.”
The Senators explode in protest once again, having found their voices once more, hurling accusations and vitriol.
“Now, now, Master Jedi! Let’s not be hasty here! There’s no need for such drastic action!” The Chancellor manages to make himself heard over the din, all calming gestures and tense smiles. “We understand you may be upset but let us be reasonable! Take this to mediation, let everyone’s grievances be heard!”
The Senate quiets down, many Senators nodding, pleased with the suggestion.
The people are not so certain.
“Chancellor,” The Jedi’s voice is soft and firm. “The Jedi protested sending a Jedi to Mandalore in this very chamber, mere months ago, it is all in the public record. You may remember we protested the sending of an adult.” He sighs, a deep sadness to his expression.
“You may remember ignoring our words, stealing a child from his home without warning or the chance to even say goodbye. The time for mediation is long past Senators, we are not asking. We are already gone, the Temple is empty.”
“You cannot-”
“We must.” His voice allows for no argument. “May the Force be with you Senators, and with your people.”
Master Dooku says nothing more, smoothly returning the pod to its place amidst chaos and fury.
No one moves to stop him.
Arla Fett is waiting for him, in the aftermath a few will mark the tilt of her helmet as concerned.
As it is, the people just feel lost.
History is happening before their very eyes.
This is no history of glory, of triumph.
It is a shattering.
The way of things for generations destroyed in a single decision.
Or perhaps, perhaps the final decision.
A step too far, too quick.
One last disaster to push everything to the brink.
Many wonder what it all means.
They don’t know.
They debate and argue and consider.
Still, they don’t know.
They wish more than anything that they did.