Coruscant glittered beneath the stars, a city-world of endless spires, speeders, and light.
And in one of its towers, the dark heart of a plan pulsed with quiet, ruthless purpose.
Senator Palpatine of Naboo stood calmly in his private office at the top of the Senate Building. Below, the Grand Concourse roared with debate. Policies, reforms, protests, and power struggles churned endlessly in the great machine of democracy.
But Palpatine saw beyond it.
He stood still, hands clasped behind his back, as a blue hologram flickered to life before him—Nute Gunray, Viceroy of the Trade Federation, bowed respectfully in transmission.
"We are… prepared, my lord. The blockade ships have been constructed. The Senate will hesitate, as predicted."
Palpatine offered a faint smile, his voice smooth, almost fatherly. "Excellent, Viceroy. Your people's boldness will not go unrewarded."
Inwardly, he seethed at Gunray's cowardice and short-sighted ambition. But the viceroy was useful. And expendable.
The Plan Unfolds – 33 to 32 BBY
In the shadows of the Republic, Darth Sidious grew stronger with each passing month.
His influence now reached the Bureau of Ships and Services, several key Judicial Department heads, and over a dozen senators, either through blackmail, ideology, or cold transaction. Quietly, he positioned his pawns in every corner of the Senate.
He had begun subtly pushing new policies:
Trade route deregulations, empowering corporations like the Trade Federation and Techno Union.
Anti-piracy acts, allowing private fleets to expand in the name of "security."
Judicial military limitations, making the Republic ever more reliant on mercenary or outsourced protection.
Each law appeared minor. Sensible, even.
But every one of them chipped away at the Republic's sovereignty—and transferred that power into the hands of the few.
His hands.
He made himself a quiet champion of peace and reform. Behind closed doors, he cultivated an image of a concerned and reasonable man—the voice of Naboo, humble and wise.
All while the dark side whispered through the Force, feeding his vision of galactic rebirth through fire.
The Naboo Crisis
By the end of 33 BBY, he was ready for his next move.
With his manipulations, the Trade Federation—nervous about taxation of free trade zones—was emboldened. Palpatine, as Sidious, promised them Senate backing and legal ambiguity. Behind the scenes, he fed them intelligence, bribed officials to look the other way, and ensured no resistance would materialize too quickly.
The Federation's blockade of Naboo was the opening move of a larger game.
A test of will.
A provocation.
One that would place him—Senator Palpatine—in a position to appear helpless, just another loyal servant of democracy, as his homeworld suffered beneath corporate aggression.
In the Senate, he acted as the desperate advocate.
"My people are dying, Chancellor. Blockaded, starved. We must act."
His words were laced with just the right amount of emotion. Not too much to seem manipulative, but enough to stir compassion. He knew what the other senators would say. He counted on their indecision. The corruption. The bureaucracy.
They would fail Naboo.
And Queen Amidala, driven by frustration, would call for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum.
When that happened?
Palpatine would be ready.
The Sith and the Shadows
Elsewhere, Darth Maul was unleashed.
Sidious sent his apprentice to monitor the Jedi response. Not to interfere—yet—but to observe. To ensure no variables slipped beyond control.
But there was one variable Palpatine did not know existed.
Far away on Kamino and beyond, a quiet force was growing. Not of the Force, not tied to the Jedi or Sith. But something new.
A man who understood technology, biology, and time.
A man who now possessed Rakatan secrets, his own clone army, and the means to operate outside the galaxy's awareness.
Shepard Kael.
Sidious, for all his mastery, had not yet sensed this rising anomaly. The dark side clouded much, but Shepard operated outside its current—the product of another universe, unseen by the Force.
For now.
Back in his office, Palpatine turned to the vast viewport overlooking the skyline of Coruscant.
He smiled, the city lights reflecting in his eyes like distant stars.
"Soon," he whispered.
The Sith would rise.
The Jedi would fall.
The Republic would become his.