Terenta-Tech 5 (Patreon)

"Name and Rank."

"Dooku, Count of Serrano and head of the Confederacy of Independent Systems."

"Step forward, follow Corporal Varnes to Medical for preliminary examination. Next!"

Padme couldn’t help but feel amusement at the man who’d been trying to kill her for weeks being shepherded along like the rest of the prisoners. For a brief moment, anyway. One by one, they were being led deeper into the warship. She still couldn’t believe it, she was standing on a warship that had been designed over three thousand years prior, and crewed by avowed enemies of the Republic.

“Name and Rank.”

“Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Padawan.”

She glanced up to the head of the group, seeing Ani standing next to one of the gray clad soldiers as he was… processed and sent along. Soon enough, it was her turn.

“Name and Rank.”

“Padme Amidala Naberrie, Senator of Naboo to the Galactic Senate,” she answered.

The soldier glanced her up and down, before saying with an amused tone, “Senate uniforms have clearly changed since we left Alderaan.”

Padme glared at the soldier, silently glad that Anakin had already been sent ahead as another soldier came up and gestured for her to follow. She did, letting the armor clad soldier lead her to a room a good fifteen minute walk from where she and the other hostages were being held. They arrived, just as the jedi that had been called before her was being escorted out, and the soldier with Padme gestured for her to enter the room.

The room was revealed to be a medical facility, similar to the ones that were on every ship of moderate size or larger. This one contained a row of six bacta tanks, currently drained and empty, along with several medical beds. There was a duros, in the sterile white garb that seemed to denote medical professionals regardless of culture, holding a datapad along with a droid hovering next to them.

“No, no. Not human, mirialan. This is why I am here you over priced range-pidgeon!” the duros bellowed in huttese to the droid, which bobbed in the air while making the whistles and beeps iconic of astromechs and other droids. “I don’t care what your programing says! Mirialans are near-humans, not a genetic deviance! Now pipe down and focus, we have a lot more patients to examine before we’re done!” The duros turned to Padme and, in lightly accented Basic, addressed her, “I am Dr. Jimsu Talwil, name, species, and homeworld, please?”

“Padme Amidala Naberrie, human, Naboo,” Padme answered, her attention turning to the droid as it warbled loudly, causing Dr. Talwil to swipe at it with the datapad.

“We’re thousands of years in the future, you bucket of scrap! This is the fifth time we’ve had a planet not in your records, just accept that there was colonization while we were delayed!” Dr. Talwil turned back to Padme, and had her perform a battery of basic medical exams. The worst of it being something that she’d much rather not have done with a doctor she hadn’t been visiting for an extended period beforehand, but Dr. Talwil, to their credit, was extremely professional when interacting with Padme.

As the exams came to a close, the door to the room opened, admitting an officer of a species that Padme didn’t recognize. He didn’t speak, simply taking what Padme recognized as parade rest, patiently waiting for her examination to finish.

As they did, the officer turned to look Padme in the eye and said, “If you will follow me Senator, we have much to discuss.”

“Who are you?” Padme asked, even as she followed the officer.

“My name is Arben Scire; at the moment, as the highest ranked member of the Imperial military, and thus the one in charge of negotiations with hostile powers, I am currently acting in my position as Commodore, but my highest rank is Darth. For now, you may refer to me as Commodore.”

Padme parsed what the Commodore had said, shortly before they came to a room, sparsely decorated with a desk and a few chairs. He gestured to one of the chairs facing the desk, which Padme took as he sat down behind the desk. He picked up a datapad and handed it to Padme, letting her read through what appeared to be a treaty. One between the members of the ship and the Separatists under Dooku.

“I will spare you the legalese, Senator,” Commodore Scire said, lacing his fingers together and placing his hands on the desk between them. “That document is effectively a declaration of alliance between the remnants of the Sith Empire and the Confederacy of Independent Systems. The Count of Serrano was quite interested in the terms laid out within. We would provide training to the military of the Confederacy, as unlike everyone in the last thousand years we have fought in a galactic war and thus have practical experience, in exchange for the reclamation and return of the Korriban and Dromund Systems to us.

“You cannot begin to possibly imagine what a gesture that is to us, even with the kerfuffle with the Trade Federation your planet had a decade ago. In the interest of fairness and securing the best possible deal for those under my command, I am giving you the opportunity to make a counter offer. I will give you fifteen minutes to formulate said counteroffer, ignoring anything you say in that time period as not being a valid offer. Do you have any questions?”

“Why would you not consider anything I say before the end of the fifteen minutes?” Padme asked, even as her mind raced, trying to think of anything she could offer.

“As I find it easier to think if I verbalize my thought process, I will extend you the same courtesy.”

Padme thought furiously. She was a single senator, there was a hard limit to the amount of power she could wield, certainly nothing on the scale of what Dooku was clearly offering. Combined with the fact that she didn’t have time to do the proper research for this sort of diplomatic ordeal…

“Time is up, Senator. Do you have a counteroffer?”