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[Fic] Or Danger May Befall


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Palpatine drummed his fingers at a tempo approaching that of a gazelle's heartbeat mid-chase, and tapped his foot at almost double that speed.

 

Senator Uticen had spoken on the subject of the depletion of brassica oleracea capitata crops in the outlying provinces of Dantooine for a little over five hours now, and for one of the few times in his life, Palpatine thought he might actually be late - or - a cold sweat nearly bespeckled his brow at this thought - miss his appointment entirely.

 

"And so, to conclude, while, as Dr. Strangeleuben of the University of Obroa-Skai has highlighted in his paper..." Uticens droned on and on.

 

Marka Ragnos' beard, the man would go on. The Chancellor of the Galactic Republic glanced fleetingly at the time on the small display in front of his chair, and then glanced around the Senate Rotunda. Only one pair of eyes glittered with excitement - and more than a few pairs were shut, their owners clearly uninterested in both Dantooine and its crops of brassica oleracea captitata.

 

Their weakness disgusted Palpatine. To be sure, the speech was a monument to dullness in as much as it was a monument to filibuster (in the history of the Republic, only one Senator had ever spoken for longer, and she had been assassinated before finishing her nineteenth hour of oratory), but there was no excuse for not weathering it, blustering pomposity, fatuous - yet oh-so-typical Deralian - poeticism and all.

 

A true politician, he reminded himself, would grasp power through whatever means were necessary - whatever had to be endured to gain it. And what was endured could only strengthen him…

 

Nevertheless, Uticens was trying his somewhat legendary patience. He looked to Mas Amedda, who simply looked downwards - there was no way he could bend the laws of the Repbulic to cut the fool off.

 

At last, the flood of nauseatingly excessive verbiage came to an end. Palpatine rose.

 

“Thank you, Senator. Honoured friends, if there is no more business for the evening” - here, he glanced briefly around the Convocation chamber, and was about to wrap up, when a lone, elderly figure began,

 

“If, sir, I might raise a small matter which should perhaps be brought to the attention of this august house…”

 

Despair and fury formed a knot in the Chancellor’s stomach, and anxiety broke the usual look of patient indulgence on his face.

 

But, bored for hours by the economics of Dantooine’s sprouts, the back-benches of the Senate came to their Chancellor’s aid. A roar of ‘SHAME’ slowly built through the chamber, eventually being re-echoed on almost every seat in the house.

 

When at last the fury of the House had died down, the figure conceded that “perhaps the matter could wait”, and the Senate was - at last - dismissed.

 

Palpatine raced into his offices, curtly but politely dismissing hangers-on, allies and enemies alike along the way. Thought Bombs of Ruusan, he hadn’t time!

 

Fumbling, stumbling, half-choked with fury and haste, he changed in a frenzy of impatient irritation, and, at last throwing on a large cloak, the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic whisked out of the back door to his apartments, sped unnoticed along the backstreets and side-alleys to his pre-ordained appointment, so nearly spoiled by Uticens’ unnecessary rhetoric.

 

Finding the right door, he quickly and silently unlocked it and rushed up to his position, quickly doffing the cloak he had hurriedly put just ten minutes before, and listened carefully through the deep felt of the curtain.

 

“Yes, yes,” - his cue. Palpatine closed his eyes, breathed in, and stepped forward.

 

“Yes, yes - I am a major-general!”

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  • 3 weeks later...

The thought of Palpatine being in a musical is just so bizarre.... :lol:

 

I had a little loss of suspension of disbelief with the discussion of gazelles and a Latin name being used for the sprouts, since both are Earth-specific.

 

However, I liked the description of Palpatine very much--I could sense his impatience and utter boredom.

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  • 2 weeks later...

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