Turmoil has engulfed the republic. The taxation of trade routes to outlying systems has led to disputes among governments. Hoping to resolve the matter with peaceful negotiations, the TRADE FEDERATION leadership has arrived on the small planet of Naboo for talks. While the corrupt and inefficient Congress of the Republic endlessly debates this alarming chain of events, the two Sith monks, secret guardians of peace and liberty in the galaxy for millennia, keep watch over the proceedings from afar...

Palpatine entered his private chambers, shrugging off his flowing grey cloak. He preferred to be free of the symbols of the material world when entering his meditation chamber. He felt at ease here, his simple dome of tranquility, wearing his humble handspun cowl as a monk of the Sith order, and not the rich, decadent robes of office as a Senator of the Galactic Republic. It was tiring to put on his 'public' face, maintained by cosmetic enhancements to match up to Coruscanti society's expectations of what a public figure should look like. Force knows how, in the decadent, fast-paced life of the capital of the galaxy, he managed to keep from losing sight of the Sith way. But the path of the Sith was never easy. He chose this burden, and knowing how crucial his duty is, he would have it no other way.

He eased into his meditation pod, but before he could begin his daily meditation, a light blinked to life on his comm-center. 'The private line? But that's only for emergencies!' Palpatine rushed to the device. 'Help me, Senator, you're my only hope!' The message was from Nute Gunray, Viceroy of the Trade Federation, an old friend and fellow holo-chess aficionado whom Palpatine would often advise on spiritual matters. 'Two Jedi knights have kidnapped the queen and her entourage from Naboo and taken her to Tattooine!' Gunray was no skittish youngster - this was a matter of grave concern. With tensions already so high between the Republic and the Trade Federation, something like this could fan the embers of distrust to all-out war. It is not the Sith way to step out of the shadows of a monastic life, but this was not the natural course of destiny. There was a disturbance in the Force, and he knew there was more to this affair than what seems. Palpatine reached out to his apprentice, Darth Mole, on the holocommunicator. Mo lived on Naboo, managing Palpatine's ancestral farm estate in his absence. 'Riiise, Lord Mole,' Palpatine said, gently waking up Mo from his afternoon nap. 'Father, please,' Mo said, rubbing his tiny eyes. 'I'm old enough now, you can stop calling me 'Lord Mole'' 'Oh, you will always be my little Lord Mole,' said Palpatine, a soft smile creasing the myriad wrinkles on his face. 'But I'm afraid we don't have much time to talk, my son.' 'What's the matter, father?' said Mo, the Dathomiri lilt in his tenor voice plucking a string in Palpatine's old heart. 'The Queen of Naboo is in danger! She has been kidnapped by two Jedi renegades and taken off-world!' 'Those damned double-dealing Jedi!' 'Now, now, son, we should not blame all Jedi for this... even though their leadership and ideals call on them to divert the course of politics through force without due process. That would be bigoted. However, it seems the current Jedi council is working towards something that doesn't have the galaxy's best interest in mind,' Palpatine said. 'I'm afraid I must ask you to follow these Jedi wherever they are taking the Queen and report on it. I'm afraid by the time the senate is moved to take action, it might be too late to avoid... I shudder to even think of it.'