Work Text:
Palpatine signs three execution orders, two emergency appropriations bills, and a temporary military reassignment without reading more than the first line of any of them.
The last document concerns Ryloth.
He notices the planet’s name, sees that the request has already passed through the proper military channels, and places his authorization at the bottom before moving on.
There are more important matters demanding his attention.
There are always more important matters.
A stack of physical documents sits on the edge of his desk because several senators still insist that flimsi is more secure than encrypted transmissions. Palpatine privately suspects they enjoy the theater of carrying folders through the Senate. It allows them to look burdened by governance without risking actual competence.
His terminal displays four active windows.
One contains updated Separatist fleet movements.
Another shows the current Senate vote projections for the defense spending amendments.
The third holds a message from Dooku regarding the situation on Ryloth.
The fourth is a grocery requisition for the executive residence that somebody has somehow marked urgent.
Palpatine stares at it.
Apparently, the kitchen is running low on meiloorun preserves.
The Republic is collapsing beneath centuries of corruption, the Jedi are stumbling toward their extinction, and somebody expects the Supreme Chancellor to approve preserves personally.
He signs it.
The office doors open.
Senator Riyo Chuchi enters with her aide several steps behind her.
Palpatine immediately arranges his face into paternal warmth.
“Senator Chuchi. Welcome back to Coruscant.”
“Thank you, Chancellor.”
She bows her head with the careful formality of Pantoran politics. The movement is polished, but not timid in the way it had been when she first arrived.
That is unfortunate.
Palpatine had expected the emergency Assembly session to weaken her. Chairman Cho’s death should have thrown Pantora into enough internal chaos for the Assembly to replace its young senator with someone older, more obedient, and easier to predict.
Instead, Chuchi returned with broader authority.
The Assembly had not recalled her.
It had rallied behind her.
Palpatine smiles.
“I understand the discussions on Pantora were difficult.”
“They were necessary.”
Her answer is calm.
Too calm.
When she first came to Coruscant, she spoke like every sentence required permission. She’d sat in committee rooms with excellent proposals and allowed louder senators to bury them beneath empty speeches.
Now she meets his eyes.
It is always irritating when decorative pieces discover they can move.
“Please,” Palpatine says, gesturing toward the chair before his desk. “Sit. You must be exhausted after such a long journey.”
“I’m accustomed to long sessions.”
“Yes, the Assembly has certainly kept you busy.”
He says it like praise.
She accepts it as such.
Palpatine lowers his gaze to the next document while she sits. A request for medical transports near the Ryloth blockade. The projected casualty figures are high, but not high enough to threaten public morale in the Core.
He denies the request and routes the transports elsewhere.
“Pantora remains committed to the Republic,” Riyo says.
“I never doubted it.”
That is almost true.
He never doubted Pantora’s need for Republic protection. Loyalty follows dependency more reliably than affection.
“The Assembly wants clarification regarding the military response on Orto Plutonia,” she continues. “Chairman Cho acted without full support from Pantora’s governing body.”
“A tragic misunderstanding.”
“He attempted to force a war with the Talz.”
Palpatine signs a surveillance authorization.
“Fear can lead even experienced leaders toward rash decisions.”
“Cho wasn’t afraid.”
There is a quiet edge beneath her words.
Palpatine looks up.
Riyo’s hands rest neatly in her lap. Her expression remains controlled, but she no longer seems interested in softening the truth for the comfort of older men.
“He believed Pantora had the right to take whatever it wanted,” she says. “That wasn’t fear. It was arrogance.”
For a moment, Palpatine sees the politician she might become.
Not merely a senator repeating the Assembly’s prepared statements, but a woman capable of creating her own.
A problem, then.
Perhaps not a large one.
Still, even small cracks require attention before they widen.
“The loss of Chairman Cho must weigh heavily on your people,” he says.
“It does.”
“And on you.”
“I regret that negotiations failed before his death.”
A diplomatic answer.
Palpatine waits for guilt.
None appears.
Interesting.
He folds his hands over the open document. “The burdens of leadership often require us to make choices others may not understand.”
Riyo’s gaze drops briefly toward the paperwork scattered across his desk.
“Yes,” she says. “I’m learning that.”
Her tone is respectful.
It still sounds uncomfortably close to agreement born from experience rather than admiration.
Palpatine returns to the terminal.
He approves a naval redeployment intended to leave a Republic supply route vulnerable enough for Grievous to exploit. Then he signs a relief package that will arrive several days too late to prevent unrest on one of the Mid Rim worlds.
Balance requires precision.
Too many Republic victories and the Senate grows complacent.
Too many defeats and the public begins questioning the war itself.
Hope must survive, but never become comfort.
“You requested this meeting to discuss Pantoran representation on the humanitarian support committees,” he says.
“Yes. The Assembly has authorized me to negotiate independently on emergency measures affecting Pantoran territory and allied systems.”
There it is.
Independent authority.
Palpatine’s smile never changes.
“A considerable responsibility for someone so young.”
Riyo’s shoulders stiffen by a fraction. “Pantora’s bar examination doesn’t make allowances for age.”
“No offense was intended.”
“Of course not.”
The answer is perfectly polite.
He dislikes it.
Her predecessor had been predictable. Elderly, cautious, tied to three dominant clans, and deeply afraid of losing the limited influence Pantora held in the Senate.
Riyo had inherited the same fears.
She simply appeared to be growing out of them.
Palpatine signs another document.
This one transfers several units from Coruscant to reinforce a supply corridor. It will create a gap in planetary security for exactly six hours. Enough time for one of his agents to move a shipment through the lower levels.
He approves it.
“Your efforts on Orto Plutonia received considerable praise,” he says. “Senators Amidala and Organa both spoke highly of your restraint.”
“They helped me prepare the diplomatic record.”
Of course they did.
Amidala collects idealistic young senators the way some people collect art. Organa gives them legitimacy, resources, and the dangerous impression that government can be repaired through persistence.
Palpatine keeps his expression warm.
“You’ve chosen admirable mentors.”
“They’re my colleagues.”
That is worse.
Mentors can be outgrown.
Colleagues become alliances.
He taps one finger against the desk.
“And how have you found your return to Coruscant?”
“Busy.”
“Understandable.”
“The Malevolence crisis exposed serious gaps in medical transport coordination. Several committee members are proposing a review.”
“I welcome accountability.”
The lie comes easily.
Riyo nods. “Good.”
Palpatine almost laughs.
Not because the answer is amusing, but because she believes him.
Perhaps she hasn’t changed that much.
He reaches for the next set of authorizations. One concerns clone compensation. Another concerns emergency fuel rationing. A third is a request from a senator seeking additional Guard protection after receiving threats from constituents he had defrauded.
Palpatine approves the protection detail.
The irony costs him nothing.
Riyo watches him work.
He can feel her attention moving over the piles of documents, the tactical displays, and the endless stream of decisions crossing his desk.
He lets her see the burden.
The image of an exhausted chancellor carrying the Republic through war has served him well.
“Do you ever stop?” she asks.
He gives her a tired smile.
“Duty rarely respects personal comfort.”
That answer works on most senators.
Riyo’s expression shifts, though he can’t immediately tell why.
Perhaps she is thinking of the Guard. She has developed an inconvenient interest in clone welfare since the Paltrin incident.
Several reports mention her visiting the Guard medical wing.
One mentions caf delivered to Guard Headquarters.
Palpatine had dismissed it as youthful sentiment.
He may need to reconsider.
“Pantora intends to submit a formal proposal regarding protections for military personnel stationed in senatorial districts,” she says.
There it is again.
Clone rights dressed in administrative language.
Palpatine lowers his stylus.
“That is an ambitious undertaking.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
He studies her.
For one second, neither speaks.
Then Palpatine smiles.
“I look forward to reading it.”
Riyo inclines her head. “Thank you, Chancellor.”
She rises when he dismisses the meeting several minutes later.
At the door, she pauses.
“Chancellor?”
“Yes, Senator?”
“I appreciate your confidence in me.”
Palpatine gives her the expression of a kindly elder pleased by a promising student.
“You have earned it.”
Riyo leaves.
The doors close.
His smile disappears.
He opens the Pantoran political summary and adds a private notation beside her name.
No longer compliant.
Potential association with Amidala bloc.
Observe closely.
Then Palpatine returns to the war.
Several documents remain unsigned.