Despite what the Galaxy thought, Nute Gunray was not an idiot. He knew people mocked him behind his back, he had no real friends and the failure at Naboo, where he was beaten by a bunch of frogs, clung to him like a bad scent. Even he could admit he had a lonely life. But a life he loved nonetheless. Wealth, ships, food and even friends could be bought. Those who said money doesn’t solve all your problems clearly never had enough.

  He was rich in wealth, and when you are rich in wealth, you are rich in all parts of life.

  “TC-16, how is our problem on Eos?” Gunray asked the droid that accompanied him as they walked towards his office.

  “The Factory Manager has reported that the union’s picket line has been broken and workers are showing back up work.” The droid answered with the cold efficiency of a lifeless husk.

  If only he could replace all his staff with droids. They didn’t complain, they didn’t take days off or celebrate holidays. They were the perfect workers. He needed this, especially after that Bitch Queen made him enforce parental leave for his staff.

  Want a kid, then don’t have a job, pick one. He wasn’t a villain for trying to run a business.

  “Wonderful,” he purred.

  He didn’t even have to raise a finger. A single union may have caused a problem for smaller companies, but for the Trade Federation, it wouldn’t take a single union to impact production. It would take planets. That was the truth behind Nute Gunray’s brilliance. He may not have been an academic man, a charismatic man, or even a likable man. But if there was one thing he knew, it was business. As much as the stench of the Naboo situation followed him around, so did his profits. People could hate him as much as they wanted, because at the end of the day, he decided how much they got paid, how much food their families got at the end of the day, and if they got to live to see next month.

  Hate was of little consequence to him so long as he could force that same hating man on his knees to literally lick his boots.

  “Oh my. Sir, it appears a glitch has occurred in the system. Your schedule has been completely erased.” TC-16 stopped in place as if trying to reboot his system.

  “Excuse me?” Nute felt an anger rise in him. Of all droids, Wat Tambor had given him a defective unit. Useless Skakoan, he would have to price-gouge him even further.

  “The only thing that remains is a meeting in your office… now? We are late.” His droid explained.

  He didn’t schedule any meetings for today. What could… no. Not today. Not when he was winning. Nute began to feel that anger slowly dissipate as his heart rate rose.

  It’s one thing for his schedule to be deleted. That’s just bad droids. But for the only thing to remain being a meeting in his office? This had Dooku all over it. Those annoying Sith had a habit of just dropping in unannounced under the expectation that Gunray would just drop everything for him. Unfortunately, he often did. The loss of a couple of million credits wasn’t worth the loss of his head.

  And he was late. Shit, this robe wasn’t made for running.

  “Oh, it’s you two.” Gunray let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door to his office.

  He had expected Dooku. Maybe even Sidious, although the man rarely ever appeared in person. This was a much more welcome surprise. Well, not so much welcomed, rather less threatening. One of them was busy sitting on the frame of a large observation window overlooking the gorgeous gilded bridge cities of Cato Neimoidia, while the other sat in his seat, with feet up, clearly intentionally on important trade agreements. Of course, both of them had been drinking from bejewelled aurodium chalices that were meant to be purely decorative, drinking a 50-year-old Chandrilian Whiskey he had been saving for a special occasion.

  The Dathomirian and an egotistical nepo baby.

  “Ventress and…” the boy, Dooku’s nephew. Yes, that was it. If he remembered correctly, he was the son of Dooku’s dead Jedi sister. “Luke, correct? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Please, the pleasure is all mine.” The boy greeted, before gesturing to the seat opposite him. Who does this boy think he is, sitting in his seat, offering the chair of the guest to him? Arrogant brat.

  “I prefer to stand.” He growled, but the boy only shrugged. He certainly wouldn’t sit in the chair Gunray had purposely made uncomfortable for his guests. “What brings you here? Last I heard, you were doing body shots of Twi’leks, now you are here. Not quite your scene, not enough body glitter.”

  “Business comes before pleasure, and you and I have quite a bit of business." Though his smile was anything but professional.

  “What business does Dooku have?” He stressed Dooku’s name, this boy was not anything capable when it came to business. Nothing but the Count’s lapdog.

  If the boy was offended by his disregard of him, he didn’t show it. Probably didn’t understand the insult. He had no concept of political subtlety. Gunray’s sharp tongue was blunted by his lack of intelligence.

  “Your profit margins are the concern.” The boy probably didn’t even know what those were.

  “They are the highest they have ever been.”

  “It’s too high, that’s the problem.” What?

  “Your hyperspace lanes. For one, your taxation is too high, but more importantly, your closures of hyperspace lanes are causing bottlenecks in CIS profits.” He further explained, no doubt repeating a script Dooku had given him. As if this boy had ever paid taxes in his life.

  “It takes money to upkeep hyperspace lanes. Removing asteroids, chasing off pirates, hiring staff to run patrol fleets among the other hundreds of other tasks that hyperspace control requires. I’m running a business you know!” Gunray exclaimed. This wouldn’t take long, he would drown him in jargon he didn’t understand.

  “Is that why the cheaper lanes are closed off, forcing other companies to use your more expensive lanes which not just delay shipments but also allow yourself more profit.” Shit.

  “A small coincidence.” Gunray smiled, the boy was still following a script. He just had to take the conversation off the lines Dooku had provided. If Dooku wanted him to lower his prices, Dooku would have to come himself. He was a partner not a worker for him.

  “Let’s cut the bantha shit.” Ventress hopped off his window frame. “Frankly, I don’t care about any of this, so let’s skip to the end where you do what we want.”

  “Oh really?” He suppressed laughing in her face. The fact he was still alive meant Dooku didn’t want him dead, all this girl was good at was killing, she was out of her depth. “You, the assassin? Stick with being the muscle, you don’t have the brains for politics.”

  “What about this?” She flicked a data pad onto the desk. This should be interesting.

  Picking it up he scanned over the contents. Dates, prices, the names of the people he visited, even time which was a bit embarrassing. Still nothing of any real substance.

  “The brothels? Everyone knows about that.” He shrugged. “Anything else you got up your sleeve?”

  Apparently, she did.

  “Your last blood test.” She explained.

  “That was a crazy night.” Nute only gave her a smirk, if rich people actually got in trouble for doing drugs, then the whole Galaxy would be poor.

  “Underpaid workers.”

  “Really?” This he actually did laugh at. This was amateur hour.

  The Dathomorian sighed. Silly woman, Night Witches are better off whispering nonsense words into cauldrons than trying to get him in legal trouble. For all their ‘magic’ they were stuck on an insignificant rock of a planet while he had whole systems. Money was more powerful then any spell.

  “You do it.” Ventress went back to her window frame, looking like a teenage girl who was told she couldn’t drive her Dad’s car.

  The boy only joined him, smirking at her antics. As if he would do any better, he looked even younger then her.

  If the boy had any evidence to blackmail him into backing down, he didn’t produce it. Instead he made a big show of pointing one finger up before slowly lowering it down onto the button which activated the speakers all over his building.

  “Rune Haako, please come to your new office.” The boy said, causing his voice to echo throughout the building.

  Rune? Why is his second in command coming to HIS office? Was the boy so stupid that he got their positions confused? No, not even he was that moronic, there was more to the boy than meets the eye.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  The boy held up his finger again as he took a greedy sip from Gunray’s decorative chalice. Finally the boy finished his drink, letting out an audible smack of his lips. Pretentious brat.

  “Get on your knees.” The boy finally said. His gaze was strong, stronger than Gunray expected, resting his cheek on his knuckles. He also noticed that while his eyes were brown, from the very edges, Nute picked up the slightest traces of yellow and red.

  He was wearing coloured contacts. How peculiar.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Kneel.” The boy repeated, that face of his was looking more and more like a cruel businessman by the second. He was more practised at ordering people around than Nute guessed.

  The boy's glare only further deepened when he continued to refuse to kneel. He was not Dooku, he was not Sidious, and he certainly wasn’t in control of this situation.

  “Dooku didn’t send you, did he?”

  “He did.” He let out a sigh of relief. Dooku wouldn’t let him die. “But I’ve made some creative liberties.”

  A knock came to the door, before a familiar head poked out.

  “Oh, Viceroy, you’re still… alive.” Rune said. What did he mean by that?

  “Forgive me Rune, you walk faster than I honestly expected of you.” The glare of the boy disappeared as he looked over at Rune. That stupid childish face of that idiot came back.

  He was quick with his masks. Nute had underestimated the boy, had Dooku taught him? How much had the Count taught him? Shit, he came in with poor data analysis, and now he was suffering the cost. How can he bail out?

  “However, do me a favour and kneel for me.” The boy added. That silly smile evolving into that cruel smirk.

  Unlike Nute, Rune fell to the floor immediately.

  “See, he listens.” The boy waved around the hand he had previously been resting his head on. “More importantly, he listens to me.”

  “I’ve done everything Dooku has asked!” Gunray’s voice was too high, his heart beating too strongly. He would be fine. Dooku needed him, just calm down.

  “Yes, but I am not Dooku, am I?” The boy raised a brow at him. “Rune, if I asked you to do Nute’s work for him, could you do it?”

  “Absolutely,” traitorous bastard! Who did he think he was pretending to be? Him! As if he could ever be him.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Nonsense, Dooku wants me to lead the Trade Federation. You are overstepping your privilege, boy.” He spat, anger reaching high in his throat like hot lead.

  “Wrong, Dooku needs the Trade Federation, not you.” Those glaring eyes returned. Those brown contacts of his were failing to keep that hideous hue of yellow and red hidden. His eyes were almost glowing. Since when could humans do that?

  He stood there stunned. This couldn’t be happening, his empire, his company, his life.

  “Oh, poor Viceroy. ” The boy swung out of his chair. Strutting towards him like some boss savouring the humiliation of an employee. “You’re just now realizing you’re not that important.”

  The red lightsaber hissed to life.

  Luke flipped on a switch above his head, causing the roar of his ship’s engine to roar to life. Dooku had offered him a few droids to pilot his ship for him, but Luke always enjoyed piloting himself. It felt nice to be in control, not to mention how many times he had died trusting someone else to fly his ship.

  This had been a good day, another step taken towards his upcoming war with Palpatine. The progress was slow compared to other loops, but Luke harboured no illusion that this loop wouldn’t be the winning one. He just wanted to spend more time with these new experiences, and feeling emotions again had been pleasant. That was until Ventress fell into his lap.

  Her skin was soft and her clothes revealing. Bald women weren’t really his type, but when you had a body like hers, she was everyone’s type.

  “So when are you going to betray Dooku?” She asked, resting her body across him, putting her back and legs onto the armrests.

  “Pardon?”

  “Two Masters, two apprentices. That’s two too many.” Also, two homophones, but he didn’t think she would appreciate him pointing that out

  “I’m sure your math teacher is very proud.” His voice was dry, grating like sandpaper. She would get bored in time, paying any attention would just make her claws dig in deeper.

  “The trade federation, the ‘secret’ training with Grievous, you’ve even given the Techno Union designs way beyond their own. You pretend to be a self-absorbed nepotistic man-child, but you’ve got your fingers in almost every pie. I smell a coup, and if I can tell, then you can bet Dooku has as well.”

  He had no doubt Dooku did. Ventress was probably the one who told him. But the fact that she didn’t mention his stakeholding in the cortisos mines on Mokivi was good. She, and by extension him, only knew the unimportant stuff. Nothing to be too concerned about. As long as he kept his best cards hidden, he was fine showing his hand.

  “Coups are quite difficult. Want some help?” She continued, her fingers dragging across his chest.

  “From you? No.”

  “You hurt me Lukey.” She feigned any sort of real emotion. “I could make you a very happy man, you’ll find my capabilities very… satisfying.”

  Her breath was too close to his ear for his liking, the way she grinded on him was irritating and, the way she pressed her chest against him was too obvious for his liking. Her flirting was heavy and obvious, it would work on some, but Luke wasn’t some man. She lacked the coyness and class of Padme. Though Ventress pouted, noticing his lack of attention.

  “We’ll also be meeting the Queen soon, excited?” As if Ventress read his mind, the mention of Padme came.

  “To spend several hours standing behind my Uncle? Not particularly.

  “Perhaps. The view across the table is nice, though.” She teased, looking for something. A weakness. A weakness Luke Serenno didn’t have.

  Padme looked at herself, covered in scars draped in a long black dress. Those wounds from Cad Bane never did fully heal. Two years ago, she looked like a young, beautiful politician, eager to make a change in the world. She was still young, but the wounds left from two years ago made her look older. Where was the smile she used to have? She looked like a dictator now, something her political rivals were always pointing out.

  “Why are we hosting them? Do you really want their kind to come to this planet?” Sabè asked, dressed in her formal handmaiden attire. Had it been anyone else she would have accused her of racism, however, Sabè of all people understood that the leaders of the CIS were just as tedious and annoying as the Republic Senate.

  The two of them overlooked the city from one of the many balconies of her palace. Humans no longer dominated the streets as more non-human races flooded her planet seeking opportunity in Naboo’s rich plasma. Every day seemed like a new company was popping up leading to ships to cover up the night sky. It had never been this busy when they were part of the Republic, so much change in so little time. If someone showed her a holo of this planet two years ago, she would have been shocked by the sheer change undergone. Not necessarily a bad change, but a change nonetheless.

  “Let them see a society not enforced but flourishing.” A lie, no, she wanted something else. There was a reason she had decided to host the CIS Council this time, and it wasn’t to show how beautiful Naboo was. Instead, it was a much more selfish reason.

  It was why she had a makeup artist hide most of her scars, though not all of them could be hidden no matter how hard she tried. It was why she wore such a revealing dress, why all the alcoholic drinks catered had been cut down to half the strength.

  “The guests are arriving now. I’ll go greet them,” Sabè sneered, noticing the luxury ships coming down to the royal shipyard. That sneer disappeared as quickly as it came, placing on her fake smile. She was good at that, how Queenly of her.

  With a deep breath, Padme put her own mask on. Not of a smile but of cold malice. She was the Bitch Queen of Naboo. Who ripped her people out of the Republic after destroying the eternity-long alliance between the Jedi and Republic, Betrayer of the Republic. Let them see her not as a kind leader but the scarred monarch they all thought she was. She would not be weak, never again.

  A few minutes later, that bravery died in her stomach. He was going to be there in that room, looking at her with his eyes. Of course he would! Would he look more at her than anyone else? Did she want that? Yes! Badly. She wished she were as brave as she said she was to herself as she approached the doors to the meeting.

  Quickly, her eyes scanned the room, Tikkes, Rogwa, Po, Passel, Shu, San, Poggle, Wat, though Nute and Grievous were strangely missing. The absence of the general she wasn’t surprised about. Frankly, she wouldn’t want the asthmatic man next to her breathing loudly for several hours. But Gunray? He lived to throw insults across the table. It wasn’t like him to miss this.

  Her eyes fell to him. Not Dooku, but one of the two shadows behind him. A black haired boy, dyed from its original brown. Brown contacts hiding gorgeous blue eyes behind them. It should be a sin to hide those eyes from her. He stood straight up, like a trained bodyguard. The irony wasn’t lost on her as she watched Dooku have what she wanted most.

  “Padme!” Dooku was the first to greet her. His smile was sickening to her, though she could admit that was more jealousy than anything else. “I’ve never had the chance to visit Naboo. I had no idea it was so beautiful.”

  He looked happy, annoyingly. He has been growing expediently happy every month while she has become more bitter. Was it some sort of Sith technique? The joy sucker? She aggressively sat in her chair. Joining the rest of the circle. She had spent her whole career sitting on the outskirts of the Senate, and now she was in the inner circle only to hate it.

  She took a long sip of her drink. Hoping it would take some stress out of her. It didn’t. She had gone through all the effort of cutting down on the alcohol only for Luke to stand behind Dooku like some puppy without even bothering to take a sip.

  “Thank you Dooku,” she growled.

  “You seem upset, Amidala, another breakup?” Wat teased her from across the table, earning a sharp look.

  Her dating life was far from a secret among the council. Not that she would try to hide it for obvious reasons. In fact, she often forcibly dragged it into conversation just for the slightest glance from Luke. Rich, handsome, warrior, pilot, none of them could give her what she craved, though. The ‘nephew’ of Dooku always kept his stupid mask on at all times, not even a glance between them. Unbelievable.

  Her partners lasted so long as every period between CIS council meetings to the point it would often be teased about at the actual meetings. What’s the point, if they couldn’t even earn a glance from him then they weren’t worth her time.

  “I hardly doubt my love-life is on today’s docket for today,” Padme responded coolly.

  “No it isn’t.” Dooku agreed, though he wore that stupid smile on his face. He loved this.

  “Speaking of which. Has the Trade Federation problem been dealt with?” Tikkes’ eyes glanced over to the empty spot where Nute should have been.

  “The closed lanes will be open in a week’s time.” Luke bowed, speaking behind Dooku, though Ventress gave him a small smirk. Like it was some sort of inside joke.

  Those two were always together. Why? Was it his plan to get back at her for dating other guys? No, he would have rubbed it in her face more. Well, he would have. Now that he was Luke he had changed. Then again, he would know not knowing would infuriate her! That was definitely him.

  The two didn’t seem that close though. He treated that man stealing whore the same way he treated everyone. Like they were inferior to him. Even her! But then again they kissed. So maybe he had been kissing her too.

  “Queen Amidala,” Poggle brought her out of her thoughts. A small mercy. “I understand that you have your monarchical election soon. Do you need any favours in… tilting the scales?”

  Such openness about corruption. There was a closeness that wasn’t seen in the Republic Senate. While there were thousands of planets part of the CIS, the council only contributed the major contributors, and her of course. It was surprisingly more personal like this. Though she had bought her place with the price of Anakin Skywalker’s life.

  Still it was jarring to truly realise just how much power a government could have. Was the inner circle of the Republic like this? They openly bought stocks in companies while discussing government contracts, and spoke of their internal corruption as if it was only natural. No wonder the rich got richer when they decided where the money went, more often than not into their own pockets.

  “You think I cannot win?” Padme raised a brow, but Poggle only waved her off.

  “I believe that your contributions to the cause have been notable. Though your competition would seek to undo that by rejoining the Republic soon after your election. You understand our concern.”

  There was a clear split in the room as the council members measured their options. On one-side Padme had been a pain in their arse. It was her idea to set a minimum wage requirement and enforce some level of worker healthcare. The employees loved it, the companies not so much. But then again there was something to be credited to her work in the CIS. Being the only person who seemed to care for the citizens, the other Council Members enjoyed reaping the benefits of her positive public reception. She only wished Naboo appreciated her as much as those Geonosian workers. The irony was painful.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Would she? Her approval rating had been the lowest it’s ever been, and while lifestyle and economic statistics backed her, people didn’t vote on data, they voted on emotions.

  “I would like to bring up my own concerns.” San Hill of the Banking Clan spoke. “We joined the CIS because we were promised revenge. We were promised a war by this time and yet those Republic dogs are not suffering. Amidala ensured the defeat of the Jedi by the Republic’s own hands. We owe it to her for this opportunity. They sit in the Centre of our Galaxy defenceless. Is it not the right of the strong to take from the weak?”

  She hated that she was given credit for the fall of the Jedi. After the riots and the clone army the Jedi had been cast out of the Core, their funding heavily cut. They were still technically part of the Republic, however, they were no longer peacekeepers. Cast out into the far edges of Republic Space, where they became spread out, diffused. The Jedi still existed but they were a shadow of their previous organisation without the wealth of the Republic. She heard of few Jedi even requiring payment for defeating pirates out in the colonies.

  “It is within our best interest not to underestimate the Republic. Besides, we have a unique opportunity, the Republic is the most hated it’s been for the longest time. Its colonies are being strangled by the Core, and the Jedi have been abandoned by the Core. This is not a battle but a siege.” Dooku explained. “My nephew has illuminated some interesting news, which would help us see a powerful ally in this siege.”

  All eyes fell to Luke, who stood behind Dooku unimpressed like a bored child forced to go to his father’s business meeting cause he couldn’t find a sitter.

  “Mandalore is currently experiencing the downsides of a culture which promotes peace.”

  “Being?” Poggle asked, his wings twitching behind him.

  “It doesn’t work.” His joke inspiring many laughs from around the table. Stupid, why was he entertaining them and not her? “Turns out a few of the clans of Mandalore quite enjoy violence and would hate to see it go. As such, a terrorist organization known as Death Watch now plagues Mandalorian space.”

  “Mandalore hates the Republic. Peace-loving or not, they have a history. A benefit of our new government is we haven’t made such a history yet, that’s something we can exploit.” Dooku explained further. The only question being, how did Luke know all about Mandalore? That and one more question.

  “Who will greet them?” Wat asked the unspoken question between the council.

  “Luke will.” Though everyone cringed at the answer.

  “No offence, Dooku, we understand that he is your nephew but…” but, his whole identity was that of a fuck boy. “Perhaps a more diplomatic hand is better suited”

  “Nonsense, these are terrorists we are dealing with. Do you wish to fight the Mandalorians?” Dooku waved them off. It was true, no one questioned the lightsaber hanging off Luke’s belt.

  Over the two years everyone had a little bit of Luke time and from the stories they all revolved around violence and body glitter. Everyone but her, apparently. Just the thought of all these people spending more time with him rather than her made her grip the table tight.

  “We should be fine without Luke’s… expertise.” Wat made sure to measure his response as to not upset the Count. “Thanks to your designs Dooku, our droids have jumped ahead by several years of work. The commando series has been proven to be exceptionally lethal and competent in more complex missions.”

  Wat’s eyes flicked to Dooku's, which in turn flicked to Luke’s subtlety. Dooku has never shown to know anything about droids, nor any care for them. He did however, have a ‘nephew’ who spent his childhood building droids. Though only she knew that. Just another thing Padme suspected Luke was wasting his time on instead of her. Playing with toys instead of her. Of all things, she was jealous of Wat now!

  “No, Luke will be enough,” Dooku said coldly. He didn’t explain his reasoning. He didn’t have to. He said no, that was it, end of discussion. At least for the rest of the council members, not her. This was her one chance, the whole reason she brought them all to her planet.

  “I’ll attend as well.” She offered, trying to play it more casually than she actually did. She almost considered begging Dooku, she needed this.

  “You?”

  “The ruler of Mandalore is a woman in power, no? Something I can relate to. Perhaps we’ll find something in common. Besides, Luke is many things. Good with his tongue is not one of them. I’ll handle all the talking while he goes murdering all the terrorists.” God, she really was beginning to become like some of them.

  “You’ll find I am quite capable with my tongue,” Luke smirked from across the table.

  “Yes, but I don’t think Kryze is a whore.”

  “You doubt my capabilities?”

  “I’m sure you can bring a prostitute to the next meeting to vouch for you, but for now I suggest you let the people actually sitting down at the table talk.” God she missed this. There was hate in both of their voices, their teasing carrying some truth to it. But she missed his voice that even his jabs felt good.

  “Where is your boyfriend of the month?”

  “Man-whore.”

  “Slut.”

  “Pretentious douche.”

  “Bit-“

  “Enough!” Dooku silenced the room.

  His gaze felt hot on her. No doubt using the Force to quietly probe her mind. Only scraping the surface thoughts as to not alert her to what he was doing. She knew though, she had dealt with their kind far too much now to not know.

  “I do see merit in your opinion. Perhaps a womanly perspective might be good, though, I’m worried about your connection with Luke.” He explained calmly.

  “Oh, don’t worry, he’s made it perfectly clear we don’t have any.” The bitterness in her voice betrayed her, though Dooku didn’t seem to care enough about it.

  “Can you two manage not to kill each other for a few weeks?” He raised a brow.

  “No promises,” Luke answered for her.