Capítulo 16: 16. Before the Senate
===Maximus===
After some time, a group of men arrived to escort the delegation to the Senate building, where the Queen would plead her case. Maximus and Sebastian exchanged a brief nod before parting ways, both agreeing that it would be wiser for Sebastian to leave rather than risk angering the world's officials.
Sebastian disappeared, while Maximus walked alongside the Queen, her handmaids, and the rest of the group.
"Are you going to speak?" Nira asked, bouncing around the towering Astartes as they made their way through the halls.
In truth, Maximus found the girl's energy distracting, but he understood that she was just a child.
"No, not unless it becomes necessary," he replied curtly.
Nira seemed to accept the answer without protest and skipped over to join Anakin, who Padmé—now the Queen—had kept close.
As they reached the grand doors of the Senate building, the air seemed to grow heavier, charged with anticipation and the weight of impending decisions. Maximus fell into step behind the Queen, his imposing presence a quiet shield, ever watchful. The guards at the entrance stood rigid, their faces unreadable, as if they, too, sensed the gravity of what was about to unfold.
Before they could enter, however, the group was halted by the unexpected presence of Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi. The two Jedi stood with solemn expressions, a quiet urgency in their posture.
"Before you enter, we would ask that young Anakin and Nira accompany us to meet with the Jedi Council," Qui-Gon said, his voice calm but firm. "We wish to see if they are suited for training within the Order, with both your permission."
He turned to Shmi and Lyra, who were visibly shocked by the request.
Qui-Gon's expression softened as he met their eyes. "We sense great potential in both of them," he explained. "Anakin's connection to the Force is… remarkable. And Nira, though her path is not as clear, also carries something unique within her. We must know if they are ready to walk the path of the Jedi. But we do not take this decision lightly—it must be yours as well."
The two women exchanged a look before Lyra spoke, her tone measured but full of concern. "I must ask that we know more of what this will mean for them." She turned to the Jedi. "Will they be safe in the Order? What will become of them if they join?"
Qui-Gon nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of their questions. "The Jedi Order is a place of peace, training, and discipline. It is not without hardship, but it is a path we have chosen to walk in service to the galaxy. If they come with us, they will be protected, trained, and guided in the ways of the Force. But the decision must be theirs as well."
Lyra and Shmi both nodded, though their faces remained tense, before they looked at their children, who were still struggling to grasp what was happening.
"We'll be coming back, though, right?" Anakin asked, his voice filled with confusion.
"Perhaps," Qui-Gon said, standing up straight. "But first, we must see if you can even join the Order."
"Come, children," Qui-Gon said gently. "We will answer your questions along the way. The Jedi Council awaits."
With a final, lingering glance at Shmi and Lyra, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan turned, signaling for Anakin and Nira to follow them. The children exchanged uncertain glances, but they understood that the weight of this decision lay heavily upon them. As they walked away, Padmé looked at Maximus, her eyes betraying the doubt she had kept hidden.
He looked down at the small Queen before giving a sharp nod. "They will be fine. You will see the boy again. But for now, we must remain focused. Are you nervous?" he asked in a rare show of humanity.
Padmé seemed caught off guard by the question, though she still nodded her head. "A little," she admitted. "Any tips for me?"
Maximus hummed softly to himself before answering. "Be bold, and think of your people. Let their suffering fuel your righteous fury." He said simply, then turned toward the massive doors of the Senate.
Inside, the Senate chamber stretched out before them, a vast, sphere-like hall with hundreds of platforms and thousands of delegates. The hum of hushed voices filled the air, a sea of officials already gathered, waiting. Maximus could feel the undercurrent of tension—politics had a way of eroding any sense of loyalty in such places. The atmosphere was thick with ambition and suspicion.
Padmé, her face a mask of calm determination, led the way. Her handmaids followed closely, keeping a respectful distance, while Maximus remained a step behind her, ever vigilant. He was well aware of the eyes that followed them—many curious, others wary. His presence as a silent guardian was not lost on anyone, but in this world of hidden motives, it was not enough to deter the ambitious.
As they reached their platform, the only three to step into the disk-like pod were Padmé, her handmaid Sabé, and Maximus himself, standing behind her.
The Queen's posture was regal, her expression resolute. The murmurs died down as the room fell into a brief, but complete silence.
"Senators and delegates," she began, her voice steady and clear. "I come before you today not only as the Queen of Naboo, but as a servant of the people. Our planet is under threat, and our survival is at risk. I plead for your support in our time of need."
The chamber fell into an uneasy silence as Padmé's words echoed through the Senate. Her plea for Naboo's survival hung in the air, weighty and fragile. Maximus stood behind her, his massive frame towering like an iron wall, his eyes scanning the room with an intensity that made several senators hesitate before speaking. His presence alone seemed to quiet the murmurs, and those who dared glance at him quickly looked away, as though unsure whether to fear or admire the imposing Astartes.
Senator Bail Prestor Organa, a tall and dignified figure from Alderaan, was the first to break the silence. His voice was calm, yet the words carried an edge of skepticism.
"Queen Amidala," he began, his sharp gaze focused on the young monarch. "You speak of a threat to your planet. Yet, you must understand that the Senate cannot act on mere accusations. The Trade Federation has provided a justification for its actions, claiming that they are well within their rights. You say that Naboo is under siege, what proof do you have to present?"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the Senate. Several senators nodded, some of them looking directly at Padmé with a cold, calculating gaze. They wanted answers—substance, not just rhetoric.
Padmé's lips pressed together, but she stood her ground. Her eyes locked on Organa who was one of her biggest allies, and she spoke with a measured calm that betrayed none of her inner turmoil.
"The evidence is not in words, Senator," she said, her voice rising with quiet authority. "The evidence is in the suffering of my people. The Federation's blockade has caused untold harm. Trade has been halted, food and medical supplies are scarce, and families are left to fend for themselves. There is no justification for the Federation's actions."
"But how can we take your word alone as proof?" another voice called from the far side of the chamber. This voice was from a senator who represented the Trade Federation's interests—a tall man with a slick, oily manner, his sharp eyes scanning the room as if seeking allies. "The Queen's accusations are based solely on what she claims. The Federation has followed the letter of the law in this matter. Your pleas are nothing more than a power grab."
The room filled with a ripple of discord. Some senators leaned forward, their eyes narrowing as they took in this argument. Padmé's face darkened, but she was quick to reply.
"Power grab?" she echoed, her voice rising, steady and firm. "You would call a plea for survival a grab for power? The people of Naboo are being starved and oppressed. The Trade Federation's actions are an affront to the very principles this Senate claims to uphold. I ask for help, not for power!"
Maximus stepped forward slightly, his towering figure causing a few of the more nervous senators to shift uncomfortably. He said nothing, but the mere motion of his bulk was enough to silence a few dissenters. The threat of his presence was palpable—he was a force of nature, an indomitable shadow behind the Queen.
At that moment, a senator from Ryloth, one of the more vocal figures in the Senate, stood up and raised his hand in a deliberate gesture. His face was fat, with round features and a dull expression. His voice, when he spoke, was dry and punctuated with disdain.
"The Queen has made a passionate argument," he began, his tone dismissive. "But we must ask ourselves: What is the true cost of intervention? Naboo has always been a neutral system. Why should we jeopardize our own stability for the sake of a world that has not supported us in the past? The Federation is a powerful entity—how long before such an intervention leads to war?"
The murmurs grew louder. Some senators nodded, seeming to agree with the sentiment that neutrality should be preserved, even at the cost of Naboo's suffering. Others exchanged worried glances, sensing that the situation was becoming more complicated by the moment.
Padmé's voice cut through the noise like a knife. "Neutrality is a luxury we can no longer afford," she said, her voice sharp, filled with unyielding determination. "We do not ask for war, Senator. But I cannot stand idly by while my people are slain in the name of corporate greed. The Federation has broken the law, and the Senate must act. If you refuse, you abandon the very principles that hold this Republic together."
Her words were like a challenge thrown into the heart of the chamber. Silence followed as her gaze swept across the room. She could feel the weight of their eyes on her, some in disbelief, others filled with a quiet understanding of the truth in her words.
Senator Palpatine, who had remained quiet until now, finally rose from his seat, his expression one of calculated calm. His voice was soothing, laced with subtle authority.
"Perhaps, we should consider a vote on this matter," he suggested, his tone smooth and persuasive. "The Queen has made her case, and the Trade Federation has voiced their objections. It is clear that this debate cannot go on indefinitely."
A soft murmur of agreement spread through the chamber. The idea of voting was the one thing that most senators could agree on. Many were eager to take action—though for very different reasons. Palpatine, ever the master of subtlety, was carefully steering the debate toward his desired outcome.
"I agree," Senator Organa said, his voice more subdued. "This discussion has gone on long enough."
At the mention of a vote, Padmé's heart sank, feeling like a vote now would doom her people.
As the Senate began to organize itself for the vote, Maximus glanced down at Padmé, his voice low but reassuring.
"You've done well," he murmured, his gravelly voice carrying the weight of experience. "But you see now that this was the only outcome. What will you do now?" He asked.
"I have no other choice, then, but to move for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum's leadership," Padmé declared, her voice heavy with the weight of her decision. The chamber fell silent, the gravity of her words settling over the Senate like a storm cloud.
The Chancellor, who had remained silent until now, visibly stiffened in his seat. His eyes widened in disbelief, and for a brief moment, his face betrayed the shock and hurt he felt. He turned to Padmé, his voice strained and almost pleading.
"Queen Amidala, you… you would move against me? Against the very institution that you seek to protect?" Chancellor Valorum's voice faltered, a mix of confusion and betrayal written clearly on his face.
Padmé's expression hardened, though her heart ached with the decision. She had hoped for a different outcome, one where the Senate would rise to defend Naboo without needing to take such drastic measures. But the reality of the situation was clear—corruption had infected this body, and the people of Naboo were suffering because of it.
"I'm sorry, Chancellor," she said, her voice steady but tinged with regret. "But I will not leave my planet's fate in the hands of a Senate so paralyzed by corruption and inaction. Naboo is in danger. My people are dying. And still, the Senate does nothing."
The words hung in the air like a challenge, a gauntlet thrown at the feet of every senator in the chamber.
Instantly, the room erupted. Senators shouted in outrage, some standing, others leaning forward, their voices rising in a cacophony of disbelief and indignation. The weight of Padmé's accusation—the very idea that she would risk the stability of the Republic to take such a drastic step—sent shockwaves through the chamber.
"How dare you!" one of the senators from the Core Worlds bellowed, his face red with anger. "This is treason! You would jeopardize the entire Senate for your own selfish cause?"
"Are we to bow to the will of a mere queen?" another senator shouted, pointing a finger at Padmé. "You are not above the law!"
Maximus, standing silently behind Padmé, took a step forward. His towering form loomed over the Senate floor, a silent mountain of power and resolve. His presence, calm yet unyielding, immediately silenced those who dared challenge her. His piercing gaze swept over the room, cold and unflinching.
Then, in a voice that seemed to shake the very foundation of the chamber, he spoke.
"Be silent!" The words rang out, thunderous and commanding, reverberating through the vast hall like a sonic wave.
The Senators froze, their expressions flickering with a mix of fear and disbelief. Maximus's voice was unlike anything they had ever heard—a force of nature, one that brooked no argument.
"You disgust me!" he bellowed, his deep voice full of contempt. "Filth!" He boomed more to the Xenos in the room than the others. "You sit here, safe and comfortable in your gilded halls while Naboo suffers! While the innocent cry for help, you debate over petty politics and power plays!"
He took a step further into their pod, his armor gleaming ominously, the sound of his heavy boots echoing like the march of a storm. His eyes swept across the room, seething with righteous fury.
"You call yourselves leaders?" he roared, his voice carrying the weight of an entire galaxy's injustice. "You, who do nothing but protect your own interests while entire systems burn? You are nothing but cowards!"
The room was deathly still now. Senators shifted uncomfortably in their seats, some looking away, others too stunned to respond. A few of the more nervous ones even took a half-step back, as if the sheer intensity of Maximus's presence might consume them.
Padmé's hand trembled slightly, though her gaze never wavered from the Senators. She had feared this moment—the tipping point where diplomacy might no longer work—but she couldn't let it show. Not in front of these men and women who had the power to change everything.
Maximus turned his gaze toward her, his voice lowering to a more controlled, though no less commanding, tone.
"You see it with your own eyes. The corruption." His words were simple but carried a weight that none in the Senate could ignore.
Padmé, though taken aback by the force of his outburst, quickly regained her composure. She nodded slightly, her eyes meeting his with silent gratitude and a flicker of understanding. She had already made her decision. The time for diplomacy had passed.
"Enough!" Padmé declared, her voice ringing through the chamber, a sharp contrast to Maximus's fury. "This Senate will not be the one to save Naboo. But I will not stand idly by while my people die. If you will not act, then I will take the matter into my own hands."
A senator from the Outer Rim spoke up then, his voice trembling slightly as he took a bold stand. "You cannot simply take matters into your own hands, Queen Amidala. The Senate has rules!"
Padmé turned toward him, her face cold but resolute. "And those rules have failed my people."
Maximus's gaze remained fixed on the room. He seemed to grow even more immense, his presence more overwhelming with every passing second. He didn't need to speak anymore. His silence alone was enough to remind everyone in the chamber who stood behind the Queen—and the power that came with it.
Another senator, this time one from Coruscant, stood, his voice filled with forced calm. "You would throw the Republic into chaos for your planet's sake? The Senate is not the place for such reckless action."
Maximus turned his gaze on the senator, his eyes like ice. "Reckless?" he repeated, his voice dangerously soft. "It is not reckless to protect the innocent. It is not reckless to fight against oppression. But what I see here is an entire body of supposed leaders too afraid to act, too afraid to face the truth."
The senator faltered under Maximus's gaze, his mouth opening and closing in an attempt to find words, but nothing came.
Padmé spoke again, her voice steady. "I move for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum's leadership. The people of Naboo have suffered enough. The time for indecision is over. We will act, with or without the Senate's approval."
As her words hung in the air, the room shifted again. Senators exchanged glances—some were frightened, others were emboldened by Padmé's courage. The notion of a vote of no confidence was dangerous, but it was the only card Padmé had left to play. And she was prepared to see it through, no matter the cost.
Maximus's massive form towered behind her, an unspoken promise of protection, of strength. The entire chamber could feel it—a palpable aura of command that made even the most powerful senators uneasy.
"You will all pay for your inaction." Maximus's voice rang through the chamber once more, quiet but filled with undeniable weight.
The room was filled with tension, but despite the rising voices of opposition, the fear in the eyes of some senators became evident. Maximus had made it clear that this was not just a political fight—it was a moral one. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, some of the senators began to reconsider their stance.
Padmé, though resolute, still felt the weight of some of their disdain. Her heart pounded in her chest as the chamber descended into chaos. This was the moment—the moment when everything hinged on the courage to see it through.
She raised her hand, and the room slowly began to quiet. Her gaze never wavered from Chancellor Valorum, who still looked stunned and betrayed by her move.
"Chancellor," she said, her voice rising above the noise, "I respect the office you hold. But respect must be earned, and right now, you are failing your duty to my people. The Republic was founded on the ideals of justice, of service to the people. But what I see now is a Senate that protects the interests of the powerful, at the expense of those who suffer. I will not stand by and watch my people perish because of political stagnation."
A moment passed, and then Senator Bail Organa stood. His tall form was calm but resolute, and his voice cut through the chamber like a balm on a wound.
"I agree with Queen Amidala," he said, his voice firm but fair. "The people of Naboo have been neglected for too long. The actions of the Trade Federation are unconscionable, and this Senate has failed to address them. The time for hesitation is over."
A ripple of support passed through the room. Not everyone agreed, but those who did began to speak in Padmé's defense. Senator Mon Mothma of Chandrila, a long-time advocate for reform, stood as well, adding her voice to the chorus of those calling for action.
"This has gone on for too long," Mon Mothma said, her voice resolute. "The Republic was founded on principles of justice and fairness. We cannot stand idly by as an entire world suffers under the weight of corruption."
Valorum's face darkened, and his voice turned cold. "Then I will leave this Senate to its own devices," he said, his tone icy with resignation. "But you will find that no matter how much you protest, the Federation will not be moved. I fear your actions may push the Republic closer to disaster."
With that, Valorum sat in his seat sharply, his gaze lingering on Padmé for a moment longer, before he looked down at his lap in shame. The murmurs in the Senate began to pick up again, though they were now tinged with uncertainty.
Maximus remained steadfast behind Padmé, his presence like an anchor in the midst of the rising storm.
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