Mon Calamari's Senatorial Office.

General Mikael Gonn, a tall human in a fairly well pressed Republic officer's uniform, stepped out of the elevator's doors into the waiting area to see the Senator of Mon Calamari. The general was not a political creature except when called for by his job. It came in handy sometimes, knowing which clans or families or guilds could be trusted to shoot at one another first instead of at his boys in the 401st. Nor would he hesitate to use those skills in a courtroom to protect his boys from the long arm of the law which occasionally reached for them after they got their jobs done.

"General Mikael Gonn, to see Chancellor Cihlbar," he said to the secretary before taking a seat. Amazing- the stuck up fish had a flesh-and-blood secretary too. Most of the other political dogs had long since converted to protocol droids to better line their pockets.

Unlocking his datapad, he started going over his summons from Cihlbar.

Recent actions on Coruscant lower levels... food riots... excessive use of force... unacceptable civilian casualties... Republic military standards... possible court proceedings...

Nothing I haven't read a hundred times before, with a hundred times more teeth.

It didn't make sense to him. A food shortage in the lower city, so the 'crats sent in an entire Republic division to restore order? How about ten tons of bread and gruel? Oh... no... that'd take too much money. Send in 50,000 of the Republic's best to put the gutter rats in their places instead and then act shocked when soldiers shoot back? Made perfect sense to the 'crats. In a twisted, topsy-turvy way. He guessed...

The General nodded quietly, switching off his datapad. The iron-haired man stood up, took one last look at his uniform in an aquarium's reflection before deciding against any last-second appearance changes.

He approached the door, not bothering to knock as he was invited by the Chancellor himself, and stepped inside the 'crat's office.

The human general, standing on the threshold of Cihlbar's office, was not the picture of military pomp and excess it could have been. Gonn had been deployed to enough worlds that he could decorate his entire chest in a rainbow of ribbons and service medals. Instead, the crisp grey Republic Uniform held his two Stars of Rank, and his abdomen had three medals- two Purple Novas, noting wounding in action, and a Republic Service Star for valor in combat. His sidearm was absent as was his ceremonial saber. All-in-all, this was not the look of a man prepared to use every tool, every award and decoration, to plead for mercy from the Republic's high command.

"You summoned me, Chancellor?"

"Well Chancellor," the general said, glancing at the datapad's contents. "The 401st was deployed with a mandate to restore order in that sector of the lower city 'by any means necessary.' As you are well aware, the discontent came from a chronic food and water shortage due to malfunctioning freight elevators and old pipelines. The 401st was sent down in full force and I immediately dispatched my combat engineers to get the pipelines and elevators working."

The general took a moment to pick his next words carefully. While not every order for every division in the Republic crossed Cihlbar's desk, it was still entirely possible that the Chancellor had dispatched the 401st and not some faceless bueareucrat.

"Regarding the... incidents which you refer to, the 401st was not sent down with extra rations and water supplies to distribute to the populace, which I requested prior to deployment. Without those supplies the only feasible means to quell the unrest left to me was a decree of martial law under the Republic military code. If I can't quell the violence with an open hand, Chancellor, the only option left to me is a closed fist. Curfews were enforced, punishment was meted out when necessary, and the cost of this was some 329 civilians killed to my 47 troopers who lost their lives. And I will not apologize for my soldiers defending themselves.

"May I also note that my men were not deployed in full battle garb outside of the headquarters we set up. Riot shields and stun batons were our primary arms, with blaster pistols to be used at discretion. The armored vehicles noted in the report were APCs, not tanks as has been sensationalised by the media."

"'By any means necessary' means 'by any means necessary,' Chancellor. Sometimes it is necessary to protect the people from themselves. Hunger can drive a man to desperate and dangerous things. Steal from his neighbor, fight with an armored platoon of soldiers, or in one case, to eat his own mother."

The General took a moment to open his datapad, visibly shutting off the wireless device. He quickly did the same thing to the Chancellor's before turning to the door, making sure it remained shut before he spoke.

"The service elevators and water pipes were older models, but their maintenance records were spotless. Either the Force itself intervened to shut down seven industrial water pipes and nine industrial freight elevators beneath a Republic military starship construction yard, or we're looking at sabotage, Chancellor. Likely by the undercity spice gangs were responsible. Why they would cut off their own food and water shipments was a mystery to my men, so I tasked a black-ops company with rounding up the gangs with extreme prejudice. We found military grade rations in the hideouts of one of the gangs, Chancellor. Enough to live through whatever shortage they would cause. My men applied certain techniques to those we captured. They all cite an outsider bringing them the supplies and a sum of untraced credits in exchange for sabotaging the lower levels before planting bombs on the main supports for the factory complex above them. The prisoners do not agree on a name, a gender, political affiliation, or physical description. We may be looking at black-ops team or an individual with powerful Force talents.

"We found no military level explosives, which leads me to believe that the bombs were to be deployed during a full-scale riot. The support pillars have a security presence at all times, after all. Easily a hundred guards during all shifts. Our deployment kept that level of chaos from happening and whoever was backing the gang did not make that last delivery. None of this has been written down anywhere, of course. Without a body or a piece of definitive evidence, we're left with the 'it was a mass mechanical malfunction' story with the press."

The Supreme Chancellor makes it back from the short distance to the Dias into the anteroom, past the front desk and the Senatorial guards posted at his inner office to protect him, and straight into his inner office. The distinguished Mon Cala makes deliberate stribes towards his desk and immediate reviews the footage from the most recent general assembly of the Senate.


What happened in there?! Addressing the Corellian Jedi that still accompanied him. What was the Sith doing here? Why were they asking for our help? Why did the Senate even consider it? How has the Empire taken so much ground? What happened to the Holy War? That decisive end at Kuat seems too. . . clean.

And where are the jedi on this?! I can only defend the order for so long, Master Jedi! The members of the military committee have apparent no faith in their would be collaborators and it is clear that every joint venture has fallen to shambles thanks to the Jedi. What have you done as part of the High Council done to rally the ORDER!?!?!?

This has been the most emotional response the Supreme Chancellor has gotten since his brother was killed in the Council Shell all those years ago; and that was exactly the time when the Jedi Watchmen was assigned to his sector and Mon Calamari rose in prominence in the Republic once more. But how will the Jedi respond to these blatant accusations against his order.

The Chancellor blinks at the surprise of what the Jedi Master had to say about the Order. "I am sorry to hear that, Master Jedi. . .Will." Cihlbar sits down and reverts his attention away from the holovid and gives Son'tir his full attention. "I pray that the Order comes back in place so that they may resume their rightful place as protectors of the peace and guardians of freedom." Cihlbar considers Will's offer, but even without the Force, Cihlbar notices that there is something clearly. . . out of the ordinary for the usually jovial Corellian Master something. . .cold. and that disturbs Cihlbar.

"Will, you know that I trust you with my life; you have saved it on a number of occassions as it already stands. But as you say, the jedi are not what they once were; and with the opinion heavily swaying against the jedi, it would not look favorable for me to take you on as part of my public contingent. The beings of the Republic must be shown that the Jedi are here to serve them. Now that you are no longer on the Council, you can no longer assure me that they are, Will. I owe you my life, but I don't owe blind allegiance to the Order. I am sorry, Master Son'tir-- but until such a time that the ties between the Order and the Republic are strengthened and public opinion swayed, I must decline your offer to protect my life and must ask you to leave immediately."

Now it is the Chancellor's bulbous eyes' turn to glisten as he banishes his long time friend and confidante from his presence and the service to the Republic. . .

Chancellor Cihlbar watched as his close friend and trusted adviser leaves his inner sanctum and banished from his presence. The Mon Calamari, usually calm and level headed-- swipe a webbed hand across his desk, knocking off the items on his desk audibly on the ground; prompting the Senate guards to come in with electro pikes blazing, alert for any attackers.

Cihlbar lifts the same hand to flag them away. "Thank you, but everything is find. Safe word:Nanook." a phrase he has worked out with the security detail to authenticate the Chancellor's safety; in case Cihlbar finds himself under duress. . .

"Send word to Vice Chancellor Darma, I would like to speak with him immediately."

== Senatorial Guard==

As you say, Chancellor.

The blue clad senatorial guards bow and shut the doors.

The Mon Calamari makes his around his desk once more and sits down, ignoring the mess he has made of his office, and rotates the chair to watch the sunset on the city planet. . . .

As Darma enters, the small catasrophe that was the little knick knacks, datapads, and a small amount of broken glass all astray around the Chancellors desk. The Large aquarium on one side of the office full of colorful sea life from the great sea of Dac was more lively then usual. The meditative waterfall installed for Cihlbar to feel more at home with rushing water felt . . .less therapeutic.


Cihlbar waits for the portal to shut behind before addressing the Vice Chancellor with a deeper accent of gravel indicative of the species.

"Budi, what in the great stars in going on around here?!?"

Cihlbar did not even bother to approach this discussion professionally or with any tact, Cihlbar has known Darma for along time and they have participated in a number of closed door rendezvous in the past; Cihlbar has been known for his passion-- but this particular set of Senators in the Galactic Senate, he had to play it much more carefully with his priorities.

"The Jedi have suffered a major loss with the onset of the Mandalorian conflict. Dozens of them died. Died! Doing what? Doing what they do best, protecting those who cannot. What do we do? Nothing! Thousands of our own died from this conflict and our compatriots-- who we have been tasked to lead-- could not decide whether to get involved or not because the Mandalorians because they were only targeting Jedi?!? We did nothing! And we blamed them for not being apparent or try to assist us in other conflicts while they pursued their Mando Assailants. Worse, we cast them aside as pet we tired of because it didn't love us any more.

"Now, in the wake of the Jedi absence, opinion plummets with them. And who but known Sith leaders come to ask for aide, and you and I are forced to abide their presence as our peers grant them the assistance we denied to the Jedi. Now the Darktide are in position to begin another War based on the sheer intelligence they now have accessed to just by being at the capitol and in the presence of the free galaxy's leaders. On top of that, intelligence reports from the Deep Core tells me that the True Galactice Empire has shored up the Moffs and are industrializing its forces.

"Our member systems are receding from the Republic, our economy is still in shambles, the military infrastructure is slow to rise back to its former glory and our allies turn into potential enemies with every cycle that passes."

While the whole time the Chancellor was ranting, he found that his webbed hands planted themselves on the desk shaking as he leans across table to the still standing Vice Chancellor. The Mon Cala blinks his bulbous eyes to moisturize them. Cihlbar takes a breath and sits and motions for Darma to sit.

Many, Budi, would say we are leading a weak government. We are not doing it well, my friend. I ask again, what is going on? We are competent leaders, there is something afoot that one or both of us are missing.

The Chancellor motions for Darma to take a seat.