Unheard and Unseen - Fourteen
Summary: Vintra and Mavan discuss privately the recent negotiations with Arvin Haradan, while the Bad Batch once again assembles their necessary gear to serve as the senator’s bodyguards. An emergency session is called in the Senate, and the uncertainty surrounding its nature puts Vintra and her allies on high alert.
Warnings: Swearing | Misogynist slurs | Conversations about treason | Mentions of war consequences | Politics
Notes at the end of chapter
Chapter thirteen -> Half-truths
The anticipation of an outburst
The sunlight was starting to fade over the horizon as the day came to an end. Several buildings began turning on their apartment and office lights, and the traffic piling up on the main roads signaled that people were heading home, ready to let out one last sigh of relief before diving into another week of work or study. There was something in the air, a quiet longing for time to freeze right at that moment, as if granting them just a little more freedom before being thrown back into the violent clashes of adrenaline and pressure that awaited them.
Sunday evenings were always Vintra’s favorite time of the week. That exact moment when her apartment walls turned into a warm shade of orange and brown, reflecting the fading sunlight pouring in through her grand windows. When the lingering heat of the day mixed with the sudden, gentle kisses of cold air announcing the arrival of the night. It was perfect for sinking into her couch, admiring the city that stood before her—the very people she faced and spoke for in the Senate—while sipping on a strong glass of wine and drowning her worries in instrumental music, letting one week melt into the next.
But tonight, her walls were painted in hues of gray and blue, thanks to the polarized blinds in her windows shielding her from sniper attacks. The cold had arrived early inside her personal space—she felt frozen to the bone, even as she paced back and forth, trying to warm herself up. She could blame the tinted windows for making everything look so bleak, but deep down, she knew the real reason was the miserable, unfortunate turn her life had taken. It was as if the very walls of her apartment were pointing out how bad things had gotten.
"I didn’t have a choice," she muttered, walking in circles, biting at the edge of her finger until she tore a piece of skin. "It was either offer him my ships or lose the deal and walk into the Senate empty-handed this week…" she continued, more to herself than to the sapphire-eyed man staring at her in horror from her white couch. "I didn’t have a choice…"
"Vintra…" Mavan finally spoke, after listening in silence as she summarized the recent events. And even now, he still couldn’t wrap his head around just how badly things had gone. "Are you telling me that, aside from committing treason, you offered Ederon’s ships to a Separatist Senator—who just so happens to be a—?!"
"Shhh—" she cut him off urgently, stretching out her thin arms and fingers toward him, pleading for him to keep quiet as she cast a nervous glance toward the towering clone standing by the entrance. Mavan followed her gaze, finally understanding her panic.
"They don’t know?" he whispered, motioning toward the clone with his thumb. Vintra stepped closer to the nearest couch, lowering her voice to speak privately with her intelligence chief. She needed to take advantage of the fact that the fox-eared sergeant wasn’t around.
"Sergeant Hunter agreed to cover up my little crime of secretly meeting with Arvin, but I don’t think he’d be thrilled to cover up the illegal arms trafficking to Druad on top of that," Vintra whispered. Mavan’s expression instantly shifted to one of pure horror—like a man on the verge of a heart attack.
"Do you have any idea what kind of mess you just dragged us into?!" he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice still low but packed with the urge to scream. Vintra placed a hand on his knee, trying to calm him down.
"Look, don’t think this was a reckless decision," she reassured him, desperate to make him understand where she was coming from. Mavan studied her like she was an impossible puzzle. "I thought about this, okay? It was my last option if I couldn’t convince him. But don’t think my offer was that desperate," she explained, though Mavan still didn’t get it.
Vintra glanced at Wrecker again, making sure nobody else was listening.
"Arvin assured me his people are experts at hiding weapons—their only issue is that their ships can’t land in Druad because they’re unauthorized," she whispered. Mavan nodded; that part, at least, made sense. "Well… what if I use my alliance with him to send our own people the equipment they need to investigate the outpost?" she added, her voice so low it was barely audible. The mere act of saying it out loud made her feel like she was tempting fate, as if her words would be carried away in the air to the wrong ears and land her straight into the fire.
Mavan stared at her, his eyes wide, veins pulsing as if they’d pop at any second. "Mav… fifteen more scouts died last week trying to gather intel on this illegal thusten extraction," she continued, leaning in closer to him and positioning the back of her head toward the clone to ensure he couldn’t even read her lips. "The report I received included a photo of a batch of stolen credits from one of the vaults… the credits have serial numbers."
"There are too many implications, don’t you think? Why are there no reports of this money being stolen? Does the Intergalactic Banking Clan know about this? And if they do, who are they paying? Who are they working with?" Mavan rubbed his temples, raising a hand to signal her to stop.
"Enough, Vintra, enough… you’re getting yourself tangled in too many problems at once," he whispered, terror gleaming in his eyes. "I get that what’s happening in Druad is wrong, okay? But you can’t take on every case tied to it—"
"What’s the point of winning my bill if someone else is pulling strings behind everyone’s backs?" she shot back, her voice still too quiet for Wrecker to hear, but sharper now. "These people know that. If we don’t act fast, we’re not just allowing an entire population to be wiped out—all the thusten is going to end up in hands we’ll never even know."
Mavan lowered his gaze, staring at his sweaty hands resting on his thighs.
"I won’t fight halfway. The justice I’m after is absolute," Vintra pressed her index finger against his arm.
Mavan held his breath for a few more seconds. Vintra’s stubbornness was intimidating at times, inspiring at others. Right now, he wasn’t sure which it was—because following her down this road could very well be the end of both their careers.
But in her crystalline eyes, in the worried wrinkles above her brows, and in the slight tremble of her lips, he could see her unwavering devotion to this fight. He had promised her countless times that he’d follow her anywhere, even if no one could convince her to take a safer path.
He, like most of Ederon, owed Vintra too much to even consider leaving her alone in this. The mere thought of it made his stomach churn so violently it nearly doubled him over.
A familiar feeling tugged at his chest, and it made him smile weakly.
"This reminds me of when you convinced me to leak the security footage of the government officials visiting the minister’s house—the one who embezzled public funds—as proof of their complicity," he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. That was the very act that had sparked Ederon’s civil war over a decade ago. Vintra swallowed hard as Mavan chuckled. "You swore nothing would happen to me, and to keep that promise, you got yourself arrested when the government traced the leak back to me," he laughed, mocking her for her terrible execution. Vintra tilted her neck to the side, trying not to let her pride take a hit.
"You were more valuable than me. I figured my job—recruiting you—was done," she said, though she couldn’t stop the corner of her lips from curling up, catching his amusement like a contagious disease. Mavan shook his head, entertained.
"All your ridiculous plans still managed to make people raise their voices… and, eventually, for Ederon to be reborn," he acknowledged, his gaze now fixed on the carpet beneath him, as if there were a hole in it through which he could watch the historical events they had lived through years ago—memories stored in an unmarked chest, too complex to describe or condense into a single feeling.
Vintra nodded slowly, cautiously recalling the same things Mavan did—every bold, illegal, and even deadly move that, unintentionally and unexpectedly, had led the people of Ederon to rise above their fear of the authoritarian regime that once ruled them and fight for their freedom and justice. However, Vintra had admitted on numerous occasions, but only to those closest to her, just how badly her actions had been misinterpreted.
"People called it ‘bravery,’ but the truth is… I was just hopeless." She smiled bitterly. "It’s easy to risk your life when you feel like it’s already worthless." Vintra’s voice seemed to come from a damp, dark tunnel deep underground, heavy with an endless void through which sorrow traveled.
The memory of that early morning, the moment when victory had finally been achieved—when she had been completely willing to give up her life for good—flashed through her mind. Her gums tingled unpleasantly as she recalled the rifle’s barrel clenched tightly between her teeth.
Mavan watched her lose herself in the spiral of horror those memories unleashed, and the touch of his hand on her knee was enough to bring her back to the present—away from that dark time, though he couldn’t promise this one was any less dangerous.
Vintra found a quiet solace in the crystalline blue of her dear friend’s eyes.
"And what do you call whatever it was that made you pull off this madness?" Mavan chuckled, pulling a wry smile from her.
"Madness, probably," she continued, laughing, but she was quick to shake her head to make it clear that, despite her tone, she meant every word. "Unlike back then, I do care about making mistakes and facing the consequences of this, Mav... but if I never take these risks, I'll never be able to change anything in Druad," He looked at her with sadness, as if this were the beginning of a farewell. "We already went through this when I decided to present my bill… we knew plenty of people would try to silence me by any means necessary… and look how much we've achieved!" Vintra raised her hand and brought her thumb and index finger together, barely leaving a sliver of space between them. "I'm this close to securing the majority of the votes. We'd be making history." She leaned in, her face near his so he could hear her clearly, her forehead nearly brushing against his pale cheek. Her deep violet gaze turned into one Mavan was already familiar with—the look of Vintra’s hopeful promise. "And I swear, after this, my last three years in office won't see moves this alarming again."
"You and I deserve a proper retirement. I promise I'll give you one once we pass the Druad bill."
"Legislation doesn’t end when you win the majority of the votes," he reminded her, but Vintra gave him an obvious look, as if she, a senator of seven years, didn’t already know that.
"For me, it does. At least this time, it will," she said before glancing once again at Wrecker, then at the rest of her apartment, making sure no one else was around to hear her. "You and I have a lot to do if this bill passes the Senate. That’s the other reason I offered my ships to Arvin," she added, her voice so hushed that Mavan barely caught her words as she continued scanning her surroundings. "You know what I mean."
He nodded, though the motion was so slight it was nearly imperceptible to her.
"If he assured you his people can hide anything… yeah, I see why you made the deal," but a brief flicker of concern crossed Mavan’s gaze. "Can you trust him with this?"
Vintra shrugged, her eyebrows lifting with exhaustion.
"He doesn’t have a choice, Mav. If he exposes that I'm smuggling druadan refugees off-planet to hide them in Ederon, I expose that he's arming them. Our necks depend on each other," once more, she brought her thumb to her teeth, biting at the skin. Mavan didn’t let the gesture slip past him.
"Do the clones know?" Vintra quickly shook her head. "Are you planning on telling the sergeant?" She forced a laugh.
"We haven’t even told the Chancellor, Mav," she reminded him. "No one will know about this until we have enough information. I don’t want them interfering with this investigation or this mission."
Without warning, Mavan took her hand and pulled it away from her lips.
"Then stop acting so nervous, or you’re going to make him suspect you’re up to something highly controversial… if you haven’t already," he said, shaking her hand lightly.
Vintra stared at him, startled by how little control she had over her own actions. She wasn’t usually someone who exposed her vulnerability so openly.
But with everything that had happened in the past month, she simply had no time to worry about whether she was lowering her guard.
Out of the corner of her eye, Vintra saw Wrecker shift from his post, and immediately after, the door to the residence opened. The uniformed silhouette of Hunter entered the apartment just as the last pale ray of light abandoned the farthest corner of the complex, signaling the official arrival of night in Coruscant.
Hunter’s copper gaze met Vintra’s deep aubergine eyes—both cold and uncertain of the other, hesitating over what to do.
Mavan looked at Hunter over his shoulder, then turned back to Vintra, giving her a nod toward the clone to let her know he intended to leave her alone with him now.
"By the way, Astar is giving an interview early tomorrow on The Critical Commentary," he informed her as he rose from the couch and pulled on his brown coat. His long-sleeved white shirt and dark blue formal pants were now covered by the thick fabric. "I know his agenda includes throwing more accusations at you over the primary school incident," Vintra let out a low growl. "I’ve heard he’s gathered statements from quite a few parents, so I suggest you start drafting your response for when the press corners you—and a plan to begin cleaning up your image from all this. Senator Yan-Nari and Senator Wabbs have pulled their votes from you because of this scandal," Mavan adjusted his coat collar and turned to leave. "Doesn’t matter if you got the Separatist Parliament to agree to negotiate a ceasefire—no one wants to support a child murderer, no matter your noble intentions."
The hallways of the Savanta Residential Building turned into the perfect set for a horror holofilm once the last traces of daylight vanished from the hemisphere. Each corridor’s lights only activated upon detecting movement—to save energy, according to the building’s owner.
Hunter could understand the practicality of that system, but tonight, it wasn’t doing him any favors.
He had spent several hours moving across each floor, installing the temperature, motion, and sound sensors Tech required to monitor the senator’s entire neighborhood from the control center—something the technician had insisted needed to be done before dawn. Every time Hunter paused to confirm a device’s positioning, the lights would cut out, leaving him in darkness. Or when he crouched down, his hand movements were too minimal for the sensors to pick up.
His irritation only grew with every completed floor, and by the time he finished, past midnight, a mix of relief and frustration reminded him why he disliked taking bodyguard missions. The bureaucratic technicalities were tedious and exhausting to supervise.
After a moment of standing still, ensuring through his datapad that every sensor and camera was functional, the light faded once more. He let out an irritated huff through his nose.
"Someone just pressed the senator’s floor in the elevator," Tech’s voice came through his earpiece. "A resident from the third floor," he added, as if that would clarify things for Hunter.
The eldest of the clones opened the camera feed. The unknown figure had their back to the lens, leaving their face a mystery, but it didn’t take Hunter long to recognize several traits. The blue skin with yellow linear markings along the arms gave away his species—Pantoran.
The man’s outfit was luxurious: a white capital wool sweater, tailored black trousers, and imported leather indoor shoes, topped off with a circular holo-watch—known for being extremely expensive and exclusive.
"Uhh… The senator says she’s expecting him," Wrecker spoke hesitantly, uncertain whether that meant there was nothing to worry about.
Hunter immediately moved toward the elevator. Any unannounced visitor had to be treated as a potential threat.
"It’s past midnight…" Tech noted, puzzled by the unusual hour. Crosshair’s amused chuckle joined the conversation.
"Use your imagination," the sniper joked, grateful that his skillset kept him far from the senator’s immediate perimeter and out of reach of whatever personal drama Wrecker and Hunter had to endure.
Crosshair’s suggestion made yet another vein in Hunter’s forehead throb. He mentally begged the universe that wasn’t the case, because he did not have the patience to deal with a politician’s sex scandals.
"Scan him anyway. And whatever he’s carrying in that box," Hunter ordered, noticing on his screen what looked like a gift. "I’ll be there in a moment. What do you have on him, Tech?" Hunter took the second elevator down to the ninth floor, just as the pantoran’s lift opened there.
“According to the building’s resident records, his name is Cecil Lovinar. He’s a sales manager for a luxury vehicle line on Coruscant and has been living in Savanta for two months,” Tech reported. Hunter glanced at the dimly lit hallway behind him, puzzled as to why the motion sensors didn’t activate this time. “He has no experience with weapons, combat, chemistry, or anything that could pose a threat to the senator,” added the genius clone, sounding disinterested as Hunter’s elevator began its descent.
“Hey, check the status of the building’s motion sensors. I think the last one just failed,” Hunter ordered, just as the ederian’s floor welcomed him. The senator’s cheerful voice soon reached his sharp ears, accompanied by a deep chuckle and an erratic heartbeat. Each thud echoed emptily, like a raindrop crashing into the depths of a not-so-full well.
A sharp scent of sweat hit Hunter’s nose suddenly—nervous sweat, clinging to palms and the nape of a neck. It was unfamiliar to him, so he assumed it belonged to the black-haired pantoran still being checked in by Wrecker at Vintra’s apartment entrance.
When Cecil caught sight of Hunter approaching from the corner of his eye, his heart skipped in surprise—and Hunter would say, maybe a hint of fear. Wrecker turned to look at his brother.
“He’s clean,” he confirmed, as Hunter stepped up to the doorway, keeping Vintra within his peripheral vision.
Vintra was holding a white box, peering into it with enthusiasm. She was still in her copper-colored dress, though her hair had been freed from its elegant updo. Chocolate waves cascaded down her shoulders, streaked with honey and caramel highlights visible even at this late hour. They gave her an effortless glamor, like the sleek mane of a young lion from the desert planet Hiantal.
“They smell amazing, Cecil,” Vintra commented, and Hunter immediately picked up the scent of sugar, vanilla, and citrus wafting from the box. When she looked up and spotted Hunter, her eyebrows lifted urgently. “Oh! This is Sergeant Hunter,” she introduced him to her neighbor. “Sergeant, this is Cecil Lovinar, a very good friend of mine,” she said, flashing a polite smile at the salmon-eyed Pantoran. “His number one hobby is incredible: baking desserts.” She lifted the box in her hands as proof. Hunter didn’t take his eyes off her. “Every time he bakes something, he calls to ask if I’d like to try it,” she added, in a voice Hunter almost didn’t recognize. If he weren’t an expert in spotting lies and deception, he might have mistaken her for someone else. “You should enter the local competition, at least to get your name out there,” she encouraged, flashing a charming smile neither Wrecker nor Hunter could recall seeing before—so polished and perfect.
“I-I’m glad you like them, Vintra, and I appreciate it,” Cecil replied. His voice was a strange mix of a judge’s sternness and a kindergarten teacher’s patience—neither deep nor soft, but fluctuating depending on the words he chose. Hunter raised an eyebrow when he saw the man scratch the back of his neck and avoid the senator’s gaze.
“Are you done, sir?” Hunter interrupted, making both turn to him as if he had just told the worst joke of the night. “The senator needs to rest; she has a busy day tomorrow.” With a nod toward the hallway, Hunter silently suggested to the neighbor that he should leave. But Cecil looked to Vintra for confirmation. “We also need to review security protocols,” Hunter added, so Vintra understood just how serious it was that someone could access her so easily like that.
The pantoran’s face hovered between horror and disappointment as he realized his time with Vintra had just been cut short. His expression begging her to override the clone’s orders, to seize this as the perfect opportunity to invite him inside and finally be alone all night.
Vintra wasn’t in the mood for anything, let alone fueling the romantic fantasy Cecil so poorly disguised. She appreciated his kind gesture, but this wasn’t the time to focus on anything but her next Senate Plenary Session. And especially not now, after everything that had happened the day before.
Cecil braced for rejection the moment Vintra’s lips curled into a polite but regretful smile. A rush of anger flared inside him—her refusal stung, humiliating and disappointing in equal measure.
“I’m sorry, Cecil, it’s late, and I still have a lot to do...” Vintra averted her gaze toward the desk just out of Cecil’s view, drowning in papers, devices, and books. “Maybe another time,” she concluded, her apologetic face impossible to resent. Her large violet eyes were her trump card—utterly captivating, yet haunting, as if silently commanding her prey to retreat.
Hunter took in Cecil’s posture from head to toe, noting the suppressed rage building within him. His heart pounded with the anticipation of an outburst, adrenaline pooling in his hands as if he were moments away from wrapping them around the senator’s throat.
“Is there a problem?” Hunter pressed, narrowing his eyes, his nose wrinkling. He subtly shifted into a defensive stance, ready to react faster than any move Cecil might make. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen a man’s fragile ego crumble under a woman’s rejection. And though Hunter recognized that Cecil wasn’t a real threat to Vintra, he kept his guard up.
Cecil’s spiraling thoughts seemed to slow as soon as Hunter’s deep voice cut through them, grounding him. He looked at Hunter with less tension, his shoulders relaxing as his smile softened.
“Not at all. I completely understand,” he said, shaking his head with an embarrassed chuckle. Hunter eased his posture slightly but remained vigilant, signaling discreetly to Wrecker to do the same.
Seconds passed, but the big guy still didn’t seem to remember what that hand signal meant.
Vintra bid Cecil farewell with that same unsettlingly polite smile. She didn’t argue when Hunter ordered Wrecker to escort him away, ensuring he was at a safe distance from the senator, and had Tech to double-check the path to Cecil’s apartment using cameras and sensors—no one would get close to Vintra without every step being scrutinized.
Once the door shut and Hunter took his usual position between the windows and the senator, Vintra let out a sigh she’d been holding in since Wrecker had started checking Cecil.
“You know, not many people choose to be nice to me these days. Cecil isn’t a threat,” she pointed to the box in her hands. “He bakes desserts, for goodness’ sake!” she scoffed, irritated that everyone around her had to be treated as a potential danger.
Hunter gave her a look so unimpressed it nearly made his eyes roll.
“I’m here to keep you from getting killed and to prevent a traitor from making this war cost us more than just lives, senator,” he replied, hands on his hips, highlighting the vibroblade sheathed in his armor. “Not to help you strike a boyfriend,” he added, nodding toward the box.
Vintra's face fell into an expression difficult to define. Shadows of panic, disgust, and pity brushed the contours of her face under the dim apartment light.
She weighed the clone's words and found herself unable to argue against his point. He wasn’t there to be nice to those around her—he was there to protect her from whoever might be a threat. After all, she had to remember that the reason her negotiations had nearly failed was because someone close to her had leaked her departure from the planet.
It was foolish to worry about kindness these days.
Hunter assessed the posture Vintra suddenly adopted—like someone recently reprimanded and corrected—evident in the silence that stretched with every second she didn’t offer a counterargument. But her gaze remained locked on his, unwavering and confrontational, even as she conceded his point.
"May I?" Hunter asked, nodding toward the box in her hands. Vintra instinctively held it closer to her body, as if she didn’t understand why the clone wanted to take her pastries. He let out a frustrated sigh. "I need to make sure they’re not poisoned," he clarified, almost offended that she thought he wanted them for himself.
Vintra let out a dry, relieved "oh" just as Wrecker returned from his escort mission.
Hunter pulled out one of the four pastries wrapped in nougat and brought it to his nose while Vintra watched anxiously. She hoped that smelling it would be enough, that there would be no need to take a bite and waste one of her precious desserts.
Because that night, thanks to the way Vintra’s body language betrayed her emotions, Hunter discovered something new about the senator—she liked sweets so much that she didn’t like sharing them. Not even a single bite.
Unfortunately for her, the clone had to taste it to rule out any danger.
Disappointment washed over Vintra like a cold wave from a violent sea crashing into her in the middle of the night. There was no way she was going to eat the rest of that portion, now contaminated with the clone’s saliva.
Wrecker shot an annoyed grimace at the eldest of his brothers.
“How’s that fair?” the big guy complained as he found himself craving one of those desserts. Vintra arched an eyebrow and nodded indignantly.
“I’m starting to think this is just an excuse to steal my food,” the ederian accused, clutching her box of remaining pastries even tighter.
Hunter looked at both with exasperation, unable to hide a grimace of disgust as he swallowed the piece of dessert.
“You better finish it,” she pointed an accusatory finger at the treat, unwilling to take it back. Hunter approached a now-excited Wrecker and offered him the rest of the bite. “You took it just for that?!”
“How can you eat four of these?” the clone asked with a frown, his palate overwhelmed by the intense sweetness. He hurried to search inside his military pack for some taste-neutralizing tablets—essential for him to rid himself of the overpowering sugary effect.
As Vintra watched Wrecker enjoy the pastry, she assumed they must be free of poison.
Just as they always were.
From Vintra’s desk, the unmistakable sound of her computer’s inbox rang out, drawing everyone’s attention to the device. The distinctive noise—three beeps resembling an alert button—signaled that the message had come from her information network. It couldn’t be anything too confidential, as any “classified” message would never be sent via email.
Wrecker followed Hunter’s orders to get some rest, and it wasn’t long before the sergeant and the senator found themselves alone in the vastness of her apartment at that late hour of the night. Hunter didn’t know if she had any plans to rest—probably not. She likely hadn’t the night before, and after everything that had happened that day, she might not manage it even if she wanted to.
Positioning himself in front of her desk, his body remained constantly between her and the most direct angles from her windows—even though they were now reinforced with military-grade curtains that blocked any weapon.
“Sergeant... has my assistant sent you my agenda for tomorrow?” she asked from behind the monitor. From Hunter’s position, he could only see the upper half of her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed in evident displeasure, and the bright light from the screen reflected in her violet eyes, turning them almost pink. Her mascara still clung to her lashes, making her gaze appear enormous and intimidating—especially as it widened more and more with each impatient flicker from left to right while she read whatever message she’d just received.
“Yes, she has,” he confirmed.
From the fleeting expression that crossed the senator’s face, he assumed it was bad news.
“Well, forget all my commitments… I’ll be spending the entire day at the Senate Building. An emergency session has been called…”
The sigh Vintra let out sent a sharp, hot pain shooting through the center of her back, as if releasing air could somehow alleviate the tension accumulating there.
Hunter assessed, based on her uncomfortable posture, that her back pain had been there for days. Her shoulders were hunched, elbows pressed against her ribs, and her slight slouch was a clear sign of a stressed person.
Whatever conflict she’d been dealing with lately, it was worse than it had been two months ago.
“Is this about today’s attack?” he asked without stopping to consider if he had the clearance to do so. But the senator didn’t seem scandalized by the question—she simply laughed at the clone’s suggestion.
“That would be a first,” she mocked the Senate’s lack of concern for the lives of its members. “No. The Government Funding Committee received a request to approve payment for Senator Burtoni’s bill to create five million more clones for the army. But according to the committee’s reports, the Republic doesn’t have the money for it,” Vintra explained, her voice barely audible and even hoarse. Hunter’s enhanced vision allowed him to see the reflection of the screen in her eyes, revealing a table of figures and graphs stretching across the display. “Senator Saam’s proposal to solve this is to pass a bill deregulating the banks… but that would lead the Republic into economic collapse…”
The concern in Vintra’s eyes and voice was enough for Hunter to understand the gravity of the situation—especially paired with the words “emergency session.” But he wasn’t an expert in macroeconomic bureaucracy. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t replicate the distress on his face the way she did.
Still, the matter had to be serious, as the senator spent the entire night contacting multiple senators, bringing them up to speed and trying to persuade their votes before the plenary session—hoping to build resistance against approving the proposal.
And by the time the sun returned to their hemisphere and Vintra rushed to her room to get ready, Hunter realized that listening to those conversations had educated him quite a bit about the political landscape unfolding that week. So much so that, after finally being alone and in silence, he found himself feeling nervous about what awaited them in the Senate session.
But it was Tech who ultimately solidified his concerns.
“If the Republic can’t afford this war, the Separatist Alliance will triumph, and we clones will be eliminated… I highly doubt the Separatists would allocate funds to keep us active,” the genius noted. Mavan Stent had provided him with the same information Vintra had, just in case it was useful. “However, I can’t help but suggest that this looks an awful lot like self-sabotage,” Tech continued. Hunter frowned at his brother’s words, just as Wrecker and Crosshair emerged from the guest room to take their positions. “The Republic’s current accumulated debt figures aren’t a secret to any senator… proposing bank deregulation is either a very stupid move or a very disloyal one.”
Wrecker grimaced at Tech’s speech, disinterested in boring political conflicts. It was way too early to deal with stuff like this.
“Maybe we should investigate the senators pushing for this bill—see if it’s a deliberate attack on democracy or just complete incompetence in office,” Tech suggested. Hunter growled at the idea, doubtful that the traitor in Coruscant would expose themselves so openly by proposing such an economically foolish bill.
“Maybe it’s another distraction,” Crosshair suggested as he finished reading the summary Tech had prepared for their tasks that day. The sniper already had a list of the planet’s cameras and sensors that Tech had managed to tap into to monitor the senator’s immediate surroundings. “Just like Vice Admiral Stass’ attacks were.”
“I think that as well,” Hunter finally spoke, standing in the middle of the senator’s apartment, now bathed in the morning light streaming through the grand windows. “The senator was supposed to have a meeting today at the Supreme Court to proceed with authorizations for future meetings with Senator Haradan and legalize him as an official peace negotiation liaison for Druad… along with a press conference to announce these advances in her favor.”
Wrecker raised his eyebrows, intrigued as he connected the dots.
“But with the emergency session, her opposition gains a day to stop it,” Hunter nodded at his brother.
Tech chimed in before Wrecker could steal the chance to share his own hypothesis.
“Exactly. But in that case, we must assume our infiltrator also has access to Senator Saam and Senator Burtoni to push them into presenting their cases together,” this frustrated the three of them—these weren’t exactly ambiguous filters, and yet they had no idea who their traitor could be.
“Then our options narrow down to Chancellor Palpatine or the senator’s intelligence chief… You’ve seen both already—aren’t you supposed to be able to smell their intentions?” Wrecker quipped, flicking Hunter’s nose.
Hunter pulled his face away with impatience and shot his brother with an exasperated glare.
"One controls the most classified intelligence network in the galaxy, and the other leads a government managing trillions of credits and species," the sergeant defended himself, almost offended by the expectation that his ability should surpass two of the most powerful men when it came to hiding their intentions.
"Our options aren’t narrowing, they’re expanding," Tech corrected calmly. "We might not be dealing with just one traitor, but several… maybe even an entire faction within the Senate. One that Vice Admiral Stass could also be a part of."
Frustration crept up Hunter’s spine.
"We’re getting ahead of ourselves," he said, raising a hand as if the gesture alone could organize the scattered thoughts in the room. "The best thing we can do is keep a close watch on the senator and start eliminating suspects from her inner circle. Our main mission is to find the infiltrator, but we need to act like we’re just here as bodyguards."
Just as Hunter finished speaking, the senator’s bedroom door swung open.
The first thing that caught the clones' attention was the color of her outfit: white. From head to toe, Senator Selana wore a dress that played with a creamy white shade and pale gold embroidery along the vertical cut of her skirt and across her torso and chest, which were partially covered by a diagonal white cape. The cape left the lower side of the opposite torso, and the entire arm exposed.
Her hair was pulled back behind her shoulders and secured within what looked, at first glance, like a net of diamond-studded chains, making it appear voluminous and held in place—almost trapped. Her makeup was elegant, highlighting the blush on her cheeks, giving her a delicate and cheerful air, as if she were some harmless and vulnerable lady.
Hunter stepped closer, positioning himself between her and the windows. A rather exhausted “Good morning” greeted both clones after a few seconds, followed by an amiable “son of a bitch,” which immediately caught their attention.
Vintra had pulled up a video on her datapad—an interview Astar Farwan had given to The Critical Commentary. The headline read: “Nemeda System’s Senator Claims Senator Selana Runs a Terrorist Syndicate That Threatens the Republic’s Freedom.” And the thumbnail? An over-edited image of Senator Selana in a ridiculously provocative military uniform, featuring exaggerated hips and breasts that looked nothing like reality, holding a rifle in one arm—a rifle that, in real life, would probably break her arm if she ever tried lifting it that way. She also had an impossibly wide grin, showing all thirty-two teeth.
Rage burned in Vintra’s veins as she stared at what she already suspected—another one of Astar’s provocations to rile up the most radical citizens against her. Not with intellectual debates, not with discussions about her political stance or professional work, but with pure hatred. The only words that ever reached her ears or eyes were things like “disgusting whore,” “worthless bitch,” or “poorly fucked slut.”
A long sigh left her nose, exhausted before the day had even begun. The thought “What if I just disappear?” screamed through her mind, over and over. She simply didn’t have the energy to face another complicated, turbulent week. The urge to run away from her responsibilities had never been as strong as it was in those months.
“Let’s go,” she finally told the clones, who immediately followed her as she walked firmly toward the Galactic Senate.
“This is absurd!” Senator Saam exclaimed from his pod. “The Republic will only regain economic stability when it has the freedom to turn to the Banking Clan whenever necessary!”
“If the Republic deregulates the banks, that’s exactly what the Confederacy of Independent Systems needs to win this war,” Senator Mothma countered, her voice as calm and firm as always. To her left, Senator Meechi rose on his platform.
“And if we don’t deregulate them, they’ll still do it—only this way, at least we have a chance to work on paying off our debts,” he argued, earning applause and cheers from those who agreed.
Vintra watched silently from her seat, still focused on the screen in front of her, analyzing the economic data and graphs reflecting the Republic’s financial health. Beside her, Hunter kept all his senses sharp, scanning for any threats to the senator. At the same time, he listened closely to each argument, watching the reactions of those who remained quiet, searching for anyone who might be behind the sabotage of democracy—those trying to derail Senator Selana’s negotiations and push a bill that could seal the Republic’s defeat in the war.
“The Banking Clan raised the Republic’s interest rate to fifteen percent in the last credit approval,” Vintra explained to her intelligence chief, who sat on her other side. Mavan was reviewing more data on his own datapad. “That’s almost double the sales tax we charge on every product,” she pointed out, shaking her head in frustration as she bit the inside of her cheek. “It’s ridiculous. With an economy unable to provide subsidies to its citizens or allocate funds to the Republic’s member systems, this will only push more governments to join the Separatist Alliance.”
Mavan let out a short, dry sigh—one that somehow still felt like he hadn’t exhaled all the air he needed to.
“You could charge them with treason. Our Constitution prohibits acquiring debts that threaten citizens’ right to freedom and their cost of living… but honestly, I don’t think you need more trouble than you already have,” Vintra scoffed at his comment, irony lacing her voice.
“My negotiations with Arvin will go public sooner or later. Get me the financial records of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. If I can prove they’re in better financial shape than we are, I might be able to convince the majority to see how obvious our defeat will be if we keep taking on more debt,” as Mavan got up to leave, Vintra stopped him abruptly. “Do this alone. Don’t tell anyone about it. Is that clear?” she ordered, voice so low that Hunter barely caught it over the shouting in the Senate chamber.
Mavan locked eyes with her for a few seconds before nodding in obedience. The position they were in wasn’t one to take lightly. Someone was coming for the Republic’s throat, and if they weren’t careful, they’d be handing them the killing blow on a silver platter.
"Members of the Senate!" A commanding voice—kind yet firm—rose from the center of the chamber, drawing the attention of everyone present. It was Senator Amidala. "Do you hear yourselves? More money, more clones… more war..."
Vintra let out a faint sigh of relief; one of the voices of reason she respected the most was stepping into this political dispute.
However, the voices rallying in support of Senator Saam were strong enough to be concerning—potentially enough to pass the motion to deregulate the banks. Padmé could do only so much to persuade the undecided to remain in that state, at least until they could speak with them privately and sway them behind the scenes. But changing that many minds with so little wasn’t something she could achieve alone.
The entire chamber erupted in discontent, reaching a deadlock with no clear answer—no way forward without risking the people’s well-being or surrendering to the Separatists. Vintra silently observed her colleagues, while the red graphs on her screen—undeniable evidence of the government's poor financial management—flashed like a warning signal.
She knew too much about galactic history to ignore the truth: collapse was inevitable.
As they made their way through the Senate Building’s corridors, Hunter couldn’t shake off what he had just witnessed, nor could he ignore the anger simmering hot in his chest. Thousands of representatives, all gathered in a single location, flaunting their supposedly relevant opinions, dressed in expensive garments, eloquent in their speeches—careful not to utter a word that might jeopardize their own standing… all of it done calmly, while at that very moment, thousands of clones and civilians depended on immediate answers to survive another day, another minute even.
Their last missions had been the exact opposite of the slow pace they marched at now. The urgency of success or failure, the constant race against time, the ever-present specter of death—either theirs or their targets’—always at their heels. They weren’t a squad called upon for jobs requiring patience or slow-paced operations. But Coruscant and the Senate moved slowly; they couldn’t change that.
Still, it was maddening to watch the very people who could put an end to the war dismiss crucial meetings with a casual “We’ll discuss it again once things settle down.” The war never settled down, so how would they know when it was time to bring it up again?
"Stay here," Hunter ordered Wrecker, assigning him to guard the entrance of Senator Organa’s office. Vintra waited for the sergeant leading the way to join the meeting that had already begun between the senator’s closest allies. Senator Amidala and Senator Mothma were reviewing documents in a portfolio on the curved blue sofas at one end of the room. Senator Organa stood by his desk, lost in thought. Senator Farr scrolled through the latest Coruscant news on his datapad, while Senator Kelvos seemed to have just arrived, settling into the opposite end of the sofa where the other women sat.
"What the hell was that?" exclaimed Vintra, therefore announcing her arrival. Every official in the room turned toward the ederian’s urgent tone. “We barely manage to cover the funds to pay the kaminoans for half a million clones each month, and now they want to push that number up to five million?” she scoffed as she strode toward Senator Organa, who met her with a weary look, fully aware of the grim reality closing in on them. “I can’t be the only one who sees this as blatant self-sabotage.”
Hunter was greeted with a respectful nod from the senators, a silent acknowledgment of the admirable work he and his brothers carried out on the battlefield for them. He returned the gesture, never breaking his stance as Senator Selana’s bodyguard.
"No, you're not the only one," Bail Organa replied beside her, his voice carrying a heavy weight of concern. "But I doubt Halle and Gume are the masterminds behind such a reckless maneuver." From the corner of her eye, Vintra caught the subtle shake of Cilla Kelvos’ white mane.
"No, they’re merely being used to push this bill forward… Someone is pulling the strings from the shadows," she stated with certainty, well-versed in the political machinery of Coruscant. "We all know it’s the ones who don’t show their faces that we need to watch out for," her voice was low and firm, ideal for imparting wisdom and conviction.
"You’re right. This feels more like a distraction," Padmé Amidala observed as she rose from the couch, pacing slowly, her mind tracing the pattern before them. Hunter raised an impressed eyebrow—she had reached the same conclusion they had. "Think about it… despite causing such an uproar, it’s unlikely the Senate will pass this bill. It wouldn’t even be difficult to strike it down, especially if we’re given time to gather financial statements and macroeconomic projections from our institutions," she listed their advantages, which pointed to Senator Saam’s actions being suspicious.
Mon Mothma stepped in after her. “I disagree, my friends… No matter how absurd this proposal seems, that doesn’t rule out the possibility that it’s a genuine attempt. At the end of the day, this would be a massive win for the Banking Clan,” Senator Farr nodded in agreement. “If greed is their true motive, it wouldn’t be surprising to see desperate measures taken to secure it,” she stated seriously. Vintra tilted her head, uncertain.
"Perhaps… but calling an emergency session seems excessive. This could’ve been shut down at the Fund Allocation Committee’s session. Why summon the entire Senate for such a pointless bill?" she questioned, crossing her arms, her thumb tapping anxiously against her elbow.
Bail rubbed his chin for a moment before letting out a frustrated sigh. "Legitimate or distraction, the best thing we can do is accelerate the resolution of this matter," he stated, his brows furrowed before turning to Vintra. "Tell me you have a plan," he asked, though his softened gaze reflected his trust that she did. A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.
"To bring down Gume’s bill? Of course I do," she assured, pulling out a compact digital file drive from beneath the fabric covering her right side, securely strapped to her arm. As she powered it on, a holographic display lit up, revealing a sheet filled with data and graphs. "My network acquired the Confederacy of Independent Systems’ financial projections for the next five years..." she presented the information to her colleagues, who wasted no time analyzing the figures.
Bail and Cilla exchanged alarmed glances. "The Separatists could keep requesting loans without going bankrupt for at least five years… They could even finance a loan to double their droid army," Bail muttered, his mind racing through the variables now in play—the Separatists' strong financial standing, Gume Saam’s suspicious proposal, the Republic’s looming credit collapse… but above all…
"Vintra… how did you obtain this report?" Padmé questioned what Bail had only just realized. Multiple sets of eyes, of various shapes and colors, turned to the young ederian, who now found herself torn between avoiding the question or answering it.
It was uncertain what consequences might unfold if she revealed her meeting with Arvin too soon. The weight of the sergeant’s gaze on her didn’t help her either, even with his visor obscuring his expression.
Because Vintra had to remind herself—someone close to her was playing both sides in this war, with no regard for the lives of civilians and innocents caught in between.
But on the other hand, it was hard to believe that any of those present could be their traitor. Before her stood the politicians that had kept the Republic afloat in countless ways—morally, socially, and economically. They were the ones safeguarding millions of lives through their relentless proposals for galactic well-being, even offering their own lives countless times to uphold citizens' rights and ensure their protection.
It was true that knowing whom to trust in those days had become a blurry and dangerous task. Any misplaced trust could cost her life. But she couldn’t take on the entire Senate alone, especially not in these times. Division was the last thing they needed.
“The Supreme Court has approved negotiations with an agent of the Separatist Alliance for a ceasefire on Druad.” The bomb in Vintra’s words exploded across the senators’ faces as their worried or intrigued expressions slowly rearranged into precise spots of shock and excitement. It was almost comical how their mouths all gaped open in disbelief at what they were hearing. “I met with Arvin Haradan yesterday morning to seal a communication agreement… It goes without saying that I asked him for this information unofficially, but I won’t have any trouble getting the Supreme Court to authorize it as valid to present before the Senate,” she shrugged. “I just got ahead of things.”
At her side, Hunter’s disapproving stare could pierce through durasteel, flesh, and bone alike. Vintra could feel it at her neck, like the clone’s own vibroknife pressing against her skin—a silent warning of how terrible the decision she had just made was.
There was a traitor among the Republic’s high ranks, and she didn’t seem the least bit concerned about being so careless with such sensitive information. Now, the burden fell on him to ensure this conversation didn’t end up costing them later.
“Vintra… are you holding official negotiations with the Separatists?” Padmé jumped in, excitement in her voice, but her eyes were frozen on something far too grim for it to be true enthusiasm. Like a move in a dejarik board game—a potential advantage revealing itself, but with no immediate answer forming in the player’s mind.
“Negotiations about Druad, I must emphasize,” Vintra clarified upon seeing her friend’s expression. “I’m only authorized to explore ways to halt the hostile fire in Druad, not to end the war.” But her words did little to dispel the concerns reflected on Padmé’s face, as if Vintra could read her mind and sense exactly what she was thinking.
“But this is the answer! Don’t you see?” Padmé continued, pointing at the report still displayed on Vintra’s device. “Arvin is one of many Separatists fighting for a better galaxy, and his willingness to cooperate in favor of a peaceful resolution proves how absurd this conflict is,” she paced back and forth, entirely focused on her argument. “If we knew what the Separatist Parliament truly wanted, we could spare ourselves from wasting money and losing lives… We could open a bridge bigger than just the war on Druad—”
“Padmé… negotiations with the Separatist Parliament are prohibited,” the Alderaan Senator reminded her, stepping forward with his tall frame, positioning himself between reason and Padmé’s idealism. “Vintra had to present a highly specific case, compiled with irrefutable evidence, to obtain this exceptional authorization,” he offered an approving nod to his ederian colleague. “We’ve spent months trying to secure the same approval for a full ceasefire, but we know this will take time. In fact, Vintra’s achievement might be our first step forward,” Bail hardened his gaze at Padmé, hoping she would grasp how serious the matter was. “But we won’t immediately resort to the same strategy. It could even jeopardize Vintra’s negotiations and ruin any future chance of securing others.”
Padmé looked at him with sorrow, saddened that the best solution had to be put on hold because of the Republic’s own laws.
Vintra let out a deep breath. “Negotiating with the Separatists is risky either way… My meeting with Arvin was confidential even from my intel network and the Jedi… and yet, someone still tried to sabotage it.”
“A leak?” Onaconda asked in distress.
Vintra turned to glance at the clone standing guard behind her.
“Yes, the sergeant and his squad are on it,” she dismissed the topic quickly, evaluating that it was better not to reveal any more details. “My point is that attempting to contact a Separatist Senator isn’t safe at the moment.”
Bail nodded at her words and stepped closer to Padmé, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Your logic is sound. It’s our system that won’t allow us to take the most efficient path,” he tried to console her, but Padmé looked frustrated. Forced to sit and watch more people suffer the war’s tragedy for even longer. Forced to wait while people kept dying.
In her caramel eyes, Hunter recognized the same turmoil that haunted him. The powerlessness of standing inside the very place that dictated the course of the war, that could say “enough” at any given moment, yet chose to evade the topic time and time again—postponing sessions as if they were discussing trivial matters, like the next day’s lunch menu.
When it was lives that were being lost with every second wasted.
Hunter suddenly realized that politics was something he’d never aspire to. Not if it meant adjusting to the slow, grinding pace of the great machine just to chase victory. He had right in front of him the example of Senator Selana, who had spent months pushing a bill forward—time that millions of druadan never had, their lives claimed by missiles, fire, or starvation.
“Hunter, there’s someone waiting for the Senator outside her office,” Tech’s voice crackled in his earpiece. Before he could even ask who it was, the camera feed appeared in the corner of his visor, revealing the visitor.
“Do you think you can get this report legalized by today?” Bail asked Vintra after a few moments, as the tension in the room eased slightly.
Vintra nodded. “My assistant is already at the Supreme Court building,” she confirmed, the corners of her lips barely curving into a small attempt at a smile. “But… I still think this is strange,” she added, trusting both her instinct and her logic. “I’d like to be the one to introduce this report in the next plenary session—and for no one but you all here to know of its existence,” each person in the room nodded in agreement with her request. “If this leaks, I’ll know it was one of you…”
But those words didn’t chill her as much as the ones the sergeant whispered to her once their closed-circle meeting had ended.
“Prenegan Lethan is waiting in your office.”
Oh it's so good to be back, I can actually hear a choir of angels as I finish the set up for the publication of this chapter.
First of all, I want to apologize for the wait, I had a health situation I needed to take care of before continuing the story, it's all taken care now and I can finally resume Vintra's story. However, I have to take it easy with the urgency of writing and posting, because I've tragically become important at work and I should't add up more stress than needed right, so I'll continue this project when I have the time for, but I'll do my absolute best to keep it short between publications, because I love to write and I love this project, I want to keep moving forward.
Second, happy new year!! Thank you so much for the wait and for reading! This was a long chapter because I felt that I owed it, next one's really interesting, many pieces will move before the great plot unveils!! We're getting closer and it's alarming and exciting!
Again, I apologize for the wait, can't promise it was the last time, but one thing I can guarantee is that this story will be finished. I absolutely have no intentions of leaving it unfinished, the whole thing will be told! I hope you enjoy it til the end!
