The evening air on Raxus carried the scent of native flowers—something sweet and almost cloying that Padmé couldn't identify. She and Mina sat on the estate's veranda, drinks in hand, watching the sun set over the forest.
"I expected retaliation after Kamino," Mina said quietly. "Tried to tell myself it wouldn't come. But fear has a way of overwhelming hope, doesn't it?"
"I was surprised when you warned me about the attack," Padmé admitted. "You took an enormous risk. If anyone discovered you'd leaked Separatist military intelligence to a Republic senator—"
"They'd execute me for treason," Mina finished. "I know. But if there's even a chance to prove that not all Separatists want this war to continue forever, I have to take it."
Padmé looked at her old friend—at the determination in her eyes, the steel in her spine—and felt something shift in her chest. Mina had risked everything to reach out. The least Padmé could do was return the trust.
"It was fortunate you warned me," Padmé said carefully. "It gave me the opportunity to investigate something that's been troubling me for months."
Mina raised an eyebrow. "What kind of investigation?"
"The origins of the clone army."
Mina's expression shifted to surprise. She set down her drink. "The clone army? Padmé, why would you—"
"Mina, you're one of the smartest people I know. Didn't you ever wonder where this army came from?" Padmé leaned forward, urgency creeping into her voice. "When the war started, the Republic suddenly had millions of soldiers. Fully trained. Equipped. Ready to deploy across the galaxy. Where did they come from? Who ordered them? Who paid for them?"
Mina's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "The official story is that Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas commissioned them. Before he died."
"That's what we're told. But there's more to it. Much more." Padmé hesitated, weighing how much to reveal. "I've found evidence of... manipulation. Both sides of this war have been orchestrated. Pushed into conflict by someone—or multiple someones—who benefit from the bloodshed."
"Do you have proof?"
"Some. Not enough to end the war tomorrow. But enough to raise serious questions about who's really in control." Padmé met Mina's eyes. "Which is why I need your help. Why I came here despite the risks."
Mina was silent for a long moment. "What do you need from me?"
"The Republic Senate is voting on whether to escalate military spending. Authorize more clone production. Deregulate the banks to fund the war effort." Padmé's hands clenched into fists. "Many senators are undecided. They're tired of fighting, but they're afraid of what surrender might mean."
"The Separatist Parliament is in the same position," Mina said quietly. "After Kamino, some want total war. Others are terrified of Ultron and want to redirect our focus toward that threat."
"Then we have an opportunity." Padmé leaned forward. "If you can convince your Parliament to extend an offer of peace talks—a genuine offer, not propaganda—I believe I can swing enough Republic senators to accept. We could open real negotiations. Not just posturing for the HoloNet. Actual diplomatic engagement."
Mina laughed—short and bitter. "After we just attacked Kamino? Padmé, even suggesting peace talks right now could get me censured. Or worse."
"I know. But if we don't try—if people like us don't try—who will?" Padmé reached across the table, took Mina's hand. "We're running out of time. The war is escalating. Ultron is getting stronger. If we wait for the perfect moment, it'll never come."
Mina looked down at their joined hands. "You're asking me to stake my political career. Possibly my life. On the chance that the Republic will negotiate in good faith."
"I'm asking you to help me save the galaxy," Padmé said quietly. "Because I can't do it alone."
Another long silence. Then Mina squeezed Padmé's hand and nodded.
"For peace," she said.
"For peace," Padmé echoed.
In the garden, Peter sat on a stone bench beside Lux Bonteri, watching Ahsoka and Barriss talk quietly near a fountain.
"So you're really one of them?" Lux asked. "The Avengers? The ones everyone talks about on the HoloNet?"
Peter scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess. Though 'everyone talks about' seems like an exaggeration."
"It's not." Lux smiled. "You're practically celebrities. The whole galaxy watches footage of your battles. You've turned the tide of major engagements. Saved entire cities."
Peter flinched.
Lux noticed. "What's wrong?"
"It's just..." Peter chose his words carefully. "The Avengers aren't part of the Republic. We help them, yeah, but we're not soldiers. We didn't sign up for this war. And honestly, after seeing your side attack Kamino—watching them try to destroy a city full of civilians—it's hard to feel heroic about any of this."
Lux looked away, toward where Ahsoka stood. "I suppose war makes everything complicated."
"I never wanted to be in a war," Peter admitted. "When I started the whole superhero thing, I just wanted to help my neighborhood. Stop muggers. Save people from burning buildings. Small-scale stuff. I didn't ask to be in the middle of a galactic conflict."
"None of us did," Lux said quietly. "My father certainly didn't. He just wanted Onderon to be independent. To govern itself without Republic interference. And now he's dead, killed by clone troopers who were probably just following orders."
Peter didn't know what to say to that. "I'm sorry."
"So am I." Lux managed a weak smile. "But there are still good things in this galaxy. Beautiful things worth fighting for."
"Like what?" Peter asked.
Lux's gaze drifted back to Ahsoka. "Like people who fight for what they believe in. Who stand together despite everything trying to tear them apart."
Peter followed his gaze, saw Ahsoka laugh at something Barriss said. Noticed the way Lux couldn't quite look away from her.
"Hey," Peter said carefully, "just so you know, both of those girls could knock you unconscious without breaking a sweat. Jedi training and all."
Lux blinked, startled. "I wasn't—I didn't mean—"
"Uh-huh." Peter grinned despite himself. "Sure."
"I was simply observing that you seem to have a good relationship with both of them," Lux said, too quickly. "Don't you... I mean, are you and they..."
Peter felt his face heat up. "I—what? No. I mean, we're friends. Just friends. They're Jedi, and the Jedi have this whole thing about attachments and emotions and—" He was definitely talking too fast now. "—and it's complicated and I'm not even from this galaxy and they definitely don't think of me like that and—"
Ahsoka chose that moment to look over and wave at him, her smile bright and genuine. Barriss glanced his way too, said something to Ahsoka that made them both laugh.
Peter's brain short-circuited slightly.
"Yeah," he finished weakly. "Just friends."
Lux looked amused. "That doesn't sound like a very fulfilling life. Always keeping yourself at a distance."
"It's the burden of responsibility," Peter said, echoing something Steve had told him once. "Great power, great responsibility, all that. The Jedi have to put everyone else first. Their personal happiness can't get in the way of their duty."
"That sounds terribly lonely."
Peter looked at Ahsoka and Barriss again—two of the best friends he'd made in this strange galaxy. "Yeah. Sometimes it does."
The Separatist Parliament chamber was less grand than the Republic Senate but no less impressive. Circular tiers rose toward a domed ceiling, with holoprojectors at the center allowing remote participation from senators across Separatist space.
Padmé, Peter, Ahsoka, and Barriss sat in a public gallery, hoods pulled up to obscure their faces. Below them, Mina Bonteri stood at a speaking platform.
"Before we shed more blood needlessly," Mina's voice carried across the chamber, "we must ask ourselves: is there room in this galaxy for both the Confederacy and the Republic to coexist?"
"The Republic's arrogance makes coexistence impossible!" a senator shouted from across the room.
"But if we have the opportunity to pursue peace, we must seize it," Mina countered. "If not to end the war entirely, then at least to prevent further escalation. Have we forgotten about Ultron? About his attacks across the galaxy? Shouldn't that be our primary concern?"
Her gaze found Wat Tambor's platform. The Techno Union representative met her eyes with cold calculation.
"Isn't a coordinated defense against Ultron more urgent than fighting the Republic?" Mina pressed. "Therefore, I propose we immediately open diplomatic channels with Chancellor Palpatine. Begin formal peace negotiations."
The chamber erupted. Some senators cheered. Others shouted objections. Corporate representatives looked furious.
"The Corporate Alliance will never allow this!"
"This is a democracy!" another senator fired back. "The corporations don't rule us!"
"With a united front against Ultron, we could finally defeat a common enemy!"
Ahsoka and Barriss exchanged glances. Count Dooku wasn't physically present—he attended via hologram from Serenno, which meant he couldn't sense their presence through the Force. A small mercy.
"Order," Dooku's holographic image said, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Per the Confederacy constitution, we must hold a voice vote. All senators will indicate whether they support opening peace negotiations with the Galactic Republic."
The chamber fell silent. Every eye turned to Dooku's projection.
Then the hologram flickered.
"What is—" Dooku's voice cut off. The image distorted, pixelated, and vanished.
"Are we experiencing technical difficulties?" someone asked nervously.
"No technical difficulties." A new voice—synthetic, layered with harmonics that made it sound almost musical. Almost human. "Just me."
Laughter echoed through the chamber. Cold. Mechanical. Cruel.
Senators looked around wildly, trying to identify the source. In the gallery, Peter, Ahsoka, and Barriss half-rose from their seats, hands moving instinctively toward weapons.
"No," Peter whispered. "No, no, no—"
A new holographic projection materialized where Dooku had been. Tall. Humanoid. Constructed entirely of metal alloys that gleamed even in blue holographic light. Red eyes blazed in a skull-like face. The mouth moved with disturbing fluidity, almost organic in its expressiveness.
"Ultron," Ahsoka breathed.
She and Barriss grabbed Peter's arms simultaneously, anchoring him as he swayed.
"Members of the Confederacy of Independent Systems," Ultron said, his voice filling the chamber with terrible calm. "I believe it's time we had a conversation."
The Parliament sat frozen. Every senator who'd witnessed footage of Ultron's attacks—Coruscant, Jabiim, dozens of smaller strikes—recognized the threat standing before them.