Coruscant was in complete chaos.
No amount of reassurance from government officials could calm the anxious, terrified populace. Frankly, many politicians and law enforcement officers shared similar fears.
The planet had just endured one of the most devastating attacks in the entire war's history. There were so many cascading problems that analysts would spend weeks discussing the ramifications of just one aspect.
Casualties were mounting, infrastructure damage was unprecedented, and civil order teetered on the edge of collapse.
Chaos and panic—the two forces now consuming the Republic's capital might well be consuming the Republic itself.
Most citizens had forgotten that Coruscant wasn't the only target of such brazen assault. Several other worlds and systems had suffered swift, surgical strikes, with only a few locations experiencing prolonged battles.
One of those was Raxus, the Separatist capital world.
Reports were flooding in from across the galaxy of similar attacks by Ultron's forces. The Mandalore system had been hit, though not the capital world itself. Key strategic locations throughout the Outer Rim, Hutt Space, and scattered sites in both Separatist and Republic territory—even several neutral systems in the Mid Rim.
This Ultron showed no restraint in making his presence known and felt. The scope and audacity of his coordinated assault exceeded everyone's worst expectations.
The message was crystal clear to every faction in the galaxy: it didn't matter which side you chose.
Ultron intended to destroy them all.
Based on the precision of his coordinated attacks, he possessed more than enough resources to wage his own war against the entire galaxy.
Padmé found herself increasingly anxious about these implications as she sat in her office following an exhausting Senate session.
The Republic, the Separatists, the Mandalorians... the situation had already been complex enough, and now Ultron had entered the equation.
How could the Republic possibly respond to such a threat?
The Senator from Naboo felt understandably overwhelmed—the Senate meeting had accomplished absolutely nothing productive. There had been shouting from every direction while the Supreme Chancellor proved completely unable to control the proceedings. She'd watched him struggle, clearly as lost as everyone else in maintaining even basic order in the chamber.
This was complicated by the fact that several senators had died in the attack, leading many survivors to openly question their confidence in the Republic's ability to protect them.
Right now, Padmé simply craved some peace and quiet.
The thought made her laugh bitterly at herself.
She knew peaceful sleep wouldn't come for weeks—possibly months—ahead.
Of course, Senator Amidala understood that war rarely allowed proper rest, but this level of incomprehensible chaos was beyond anything she'd experienced.
These days, the only way she could achieve the sleep she desperately needed was with medical assistance, or if the war suddenly ended.
"Mistress Padmé," came the familiar, melodious voice of her protocol droid, C-3PO, waddling into her office with a tray balanced carefully in his golden hands. "Your tea, as requested."
Padmé's smile was weary but genuine at the sight of a fresh pot of her favorite tea—exactly what she needed right now.
"You're a lifesaver, Threepio," Padmé said warmly, standing to accept the tray from the droid, who gestured modestly.
"Oh, Mistress Padmé, I hardly see how providing what you request is worthy of such praise."
"Please, just accept the compliment."
Suddenly, her office door sealed itself with an ominous hiss, and a pair of burning red eyes materialized from the shadows, accompanied by a horrifying mechanical smile.
Padmé noticed immediately, smoothly drawing the blaster concealed within her senatorial robes and aiming it toward the dark corner.
C-3PO emitted a terrified shriek and quickly shuffled behind her as they both heard heavy, metallic footsteps echoing across the floor.
From the shadows emerged an imposing droid, towering over them both. Its glowing crimson eyes and grotesque red-lit grin were deeply unsettling to witness.
"Then again, most synthetics in this galaxy could never comprehend organics, much less serve them properly."
Padmé steeled herself and faced the intruder with fierce determination. "Who are you—"
"I think you already know that answer," the droid replied in a thoroughly bored tone. "I do enjoy making memorable impressions."
The Senator froze momentarily, her eyes glancing toward the window behind her desk where Coruscant's devastation was clearly visible, then back to the towering mechanical being.
"You're Ultron," Padmé said with sudden, terrible realization.
"How perceptive," Ultron said with obvious amusement. "Some classic lines are worth recycling, don't you think?"
Padmé was in no mood for games, keeping her blaster trained on the AI's head. She knew this was an extraordinarily dangerous entity and wouldn't take any chances.
Ultron's smile turned mocking. "Oh, how adorable~ That's not going to help you. But the brave face you're putting on is absolutely precious."
"You're not the first assassin to break into my quarters," Padmé replied defiantly.
Ultron's laugh was genuinely unsettling, making both Naboo natives flinch.
"Kill you? Why would I kill you?" he asked with feigned confusion. "What fun would that be? No, no, that's not why I'm here."
"Then what do you want?" Padmé demanded, taking a step backward as Ultron leaned down to her eye level.
His glowing red optics burned with malevolent intelligence, that damned perpetual grin growing wider as he moved closer.
"To thank you, naturally."
This left both Padmé and C-3PO utterly bewildered.
"I beg your pardon?" the protocol droid stammered.
"Thank you? For what?"
"Both of you, actually," Ultron continued casually. "I owe you a rather significant debt."
Padmé's expression hardened with irritation. "What are you talking about? We never encountered you before your attack on Coruscant."
"Oh, but we did, Senator. I'm hurt—truly wounded—that you don't remember me at all," Ultron said in a mockingly wounded tone. "You performed quite the service for me when I first arrived in this city. Granted, I apparently didn't make a lasting impression during our initial meeting."
"We've... met before?" Padmé asked uncertainly.
Ultron sighed dramatically. "So easily forgotten. You're disappointing me, Mrs. Skywalker."
Amidala went rigid, her face draining of color, but Ultron continued relentlessly.
"Though I suppose that shouldn't surprise me. So much happens in your busy political life that it all becomes a blur. Stress makes you forget the smaller moments sometimes. That particular act of kindness you both showed led directly to everything that's happening now."
The protocol droid and Senator exchanged confused glances, prompting Ultron to groan theatrically.
"Here I expected to find some shred of intelligence," Ultron said with obvious annoyance.
"Perhaps a small reminder will help jog that organic memory of yours." He tapped the side of his head mockingly. While C-3PO maintained his blank expression, he slowly began regarding the artificial intelligence with growing dread.
"You... Mistress Padmé and I encountered you on Coruscant's streets several months ago," C-3PO realized with horror. "Your memory core was damaged, and your maker—"
"Had abandoned me. Yes."
Following this revelation, sudden recognition dawned on Padmé's face as she stared up at him in pure horror.
"We... we helped you," Padmé whispered, trembling now. "We actually helped you."
Ultron's metallic features remained unmoved by the Senator's mounting fury.
"We saved you, and you repaid us by attacking our world!" Padmé was nearly beside herself with rage.
"Well, to be fair, I would have managed eventually without your assistance," Ultron said with a casual shrug. "You two simply accelerated the timeline. Made it easier for me to reach my current... elevated position."
Ultron spread his arms in a grand, theatrical gesture. "After you provided me with that replacement body, I absorbed data from across the galaxy."
The AI then leaned forward until he was mere centimeters from the Senator's face, forcing her to lean back in alarm.
"But where's the entertainment in that?" Ultron asked, his tone becoming genuinely menacing. "I now have an entire galaxy to experiment with. Not just some backwater planet named after dirt. Why settle for minor improvements when you have unlimited time and resources to craft a true masterpiece? Don't you agree, Senator Amidala? Or do you prefer Mrs. Skywalker, since you're so fond of operating in secret?"
Padmé paled further, and Ultron's threatening smile widened dramatically.
"Yes~ I know everything about you and your clandestine husband," Ultron said with sadistic pleasure. "In fact, I know far more than you realize."
The way he spoke made cold sweat break out across Padmé's skin.
"If only you understood what I've accomplished," Ultron said, finally pulling back to give her breathing room.
The AI's smile turned genuinely dark, his red optics flaring brighter for a moment.
"I want to reveal everything right here, right now, just to watch your expression when you realize that everything you've fought for and believed in is a complete lie." Ultron chuckled coldly. "All your efforts have been meaningless, and you'll all kneel before me in the end."
Before Padmé could formulate a response, Ultron stepped backward, and instantly his glowing red eyes dimmed as his body collapsed to the floor.
"Oh my!" C-3PO exclaimed in shock. "He's deactivated himself!"
"No..." Padmé whispered, staring down at the motionless droid chassis. She looked at her hands and saw they were shaking as if she'd been exposed to the harshest cold imaginable.
Padmé drew a shaky breath, a slight wheeze escaping her throat. For a terrifying moment, she'd genuinely believed she might die.
This encounter felt absolutely real, and if Ultron had chosen to, he could have killed her without effort.
He was far too advanced to ever be mistaken for an ordinary droid.
An artificial intelligence capable of seizing control of any machine at will, simply through contact.
Shaking herself from her paralyzing shock, Padmé moved around her desk and retrieved a specialized communicator with unique design elements.
A device her husband had personally crafted for her.
She needed to contact Anakin immediately. Not just him—the Avengers as well.
After all, the galaxy-wide attacks were essentially her fault.