I’m Star-Lord (SW Xover)

C243 Civil War/Councilman Quill?

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——————

The Jedi Council Chamber was silent, the air thick with tension as the members sat in their respective chairs, their expressions a mix of contemplation and unease. The debate over Peter Quill’s potential nomination to the Council had stretched on for what felt like hours, and the weight of the decision hung heavily over the room.  

Yoda tapped his cane against the floor, drawing their attention. “A vote, we shall have. Decide, the Council must.”  

One by one, the members began casting their votes, their expressions a mix of reluctance and resolve. The tension in the room grew with each passing moment, the fate of the Jedi Order hanging in the balance.  

Suddenly, before all of the votes could be cast, the chamber doors hissed open, and a young Jedi Knight rushed in, his face pale and his breathing ragged.  

“Masters,” he said, his voice trembling. “Forgive the interruption, but… an emergency transmission is being broadcast across the galaxy. It’s from the leaders of the Techno Union, the Banking Clan, the Corporate Alliance, and the Commerce Guild. They’re declaring their independence from the Republic!”  

The room froze, the weight of the Knight’s words sinking in. Yoda’s ears twitched, his expression darkening.  

“Play the transmission,” Windu ordered, his tone sharp.  

The Knight nodded, activating the holoprojector in the center of the room. The image of Wat Tambor, San Hill, Passel Argente, and Shu Mai materialized, their expressions resolute as they stood together in a grand hall. Behind them, the banners of their respective organizations hung prominently, a stark reminder of their collective power.  

The Council members leaned forward, their unease growing as the leaders began to speak.  

Wat Tambor stepped forward first, his mechanical voice echoing with disdain. “The Republic has become a puppet of senatorial greed, its leaders blind to the suffering of the galaxy. We, the Techno Union, will no longer be complicit in their tyranny. Today, we choose freedom over oppression, independence over subjugation.”  

The Council members exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of Tambor’s words sinking in.  

Next, San Hill stepped forward, his tall, slender frame exuding an air of calculated calm. “The InterGalactic Banking Clan stands for freedom and fairness. The Republic’s exploitation of the galaxy’s resources must end. We choose independence, not just for ourselves, but for all who seek to break free from the chains of corruption.”  

Passel Argente followed, his voice firm and unwavering. “The Corporate Alliance will no longer bow to the Republic’s demands. We fight for the rights of all beings to govern themselves, to determine their own destinies. The time has come to cast off the shackles of a broken system.”  

Finally, Shu Mai stepped forward, her tone sharp and unyielding. “The Commerce Guild pledges its support to the cause of freedom. Together, we will forge a new future, free from the Republic’s chains. This is not a rebellion—it is a revolution. And we will not be silenced.”  

The chamber fell silent, the weight of their declarations hanging heavy in the air. But before the Council could fully process the implications, the hologram shifted, and a new figure stepped forward.  

Gilramos Libkath, the new Viceroy of the Trade Federation, stood tall, his expression cold and determined. “The Trade Federation stands with the Confederacy of Independent Systems,” he announced, his voice carrying a note of finality. “Our military power, our resources, and our resolve are pledged to this noble cause. Together, we will bring an end to the Republic’s corruption and usher in a new era of freedom.”  

The Council chamber erupted into murmurs, the members exchanging shocked glances. Even Yoda and Windu, usually unflappable, seemed momentarily taken aback.  

“This is… unprecedented,” Plo Koon said, his modulated voice tinged with disbelief.  

Ki-Adi-Mundi shook his head, his skepticism giving way to concern. “The Trade Federation’s betrayal is a grave blow. Their military strength alone could tip the scales in the Separatists’ favor.”  

Yoda’s ears twitched, his expression grim. “Dark times, these are. Divided, the galaxy becomes.”  

Windu’s holographic form stepped forward, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “We must act quickly. If these Separatists are mobilizing, we cannot afford to delay.”  

The Council members nodded, their unease growing as the hologram faded, leaving the chamber in stunned silence. The galaxy was on the brink of war, and the Jedi Order stood at the center of the storm.  

————

The Senate

The Galactic Senate chamber was in turmoil. The towering dome echoed with the cacophony of shouting senators, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of outrage and fear. The holographic transmission of the Separatist leaders had just ended, leaving the room in a state of shock.  

Chancellor Valorum stood at the central podium, his hands raised in a futile attempt to restore order. “My friends, please! We must remain calm. This is a time for unity, not division!”  

But his words were drowned out by the rising tide of panic. Senators from the Core Worlds demanded immediate action, while those from the Outer Rim voiced their fears of being abandoned. The chamber was a sea of raised voices and frantic gestures, the very foundation of the Republic seeming to tremble under the weight of the crisis.  

Amid the chaos, a tall, regal figure stepped forward. Count Dooku, his presence commanding and his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “My friends,” he began, his tone calm but carrying an undercurrent of authority, “this is indeed a dark day for our Republic. But we must not falter. Together, we will stand against this threat and restore peace to the galaxy.”  

The room fell silent, the senators turning their attention to Dooku. His reputation as a statesman and former Jedi lent him an air of credibility, and his words carried the weight of someone who had seen the galaxy’s darkest corners.  

“The Separatists seek to divide us,” Dooku continued, his voice rising with conviction. “They prey on our fears and exploit our weaknesses. But we are stronger than they know. Together, we will defend the ideals of the Republic and ensure that freedom prevails.”  

The senators erupted into applause, their panic momentarily quelled by Dooku’s stirring words. But one voice rose above the rest, trembling with uncertainty.  

“But how will we fight?” A senator from the Outer Rim stood, her face pale and her hands clutching the edge of her pod. “We have no army to match their forces. The Trade Federation’s droid armies are vast, and now they have the support of the Techno Union, the Banking Clan, and the Commerce Guild. How can we hope to stand against them?”  

The chamber fell silent once more, the weight of her question hanging in the air. All eyes turned to Dooku, who stood tall, a faint smirk playing on his lips.  

“Fear not,” he said, his tone calm but confident. “For I have already taken steps to ensure our defense...”

————

On the storm-lashed world of Kamino, where the cloning facilities stretched as far as the eye could see. Towering spires rose from the endless ocean, their sleek, white surfaces gleaming under the dim light. Inside, the Kaminoans worked with clinical precision, their long, slender fingers moving deftly over control panels and monitors.  

Rows upon rows of clone troopers stood at attention in the training halls, their identical faces masked by helmets as they drilled under the watchful eyes of their instructors. The sound of marching boots and shouted commands echoed through the sterile corridors, a symphony of preparation for the coming war.  

In a secluded laboratory, a Kaminoan scientist stood before a shadowy figure, their features obscured by the dim light. The scientist’s voice was calm and measured, carrying the confidence of someone who knew their work was flawless.  

“The army is progressing ahead of schedule,” the Kaminoan said, their tone devoid of emotion. “The first batch of units is nearly ready for deployment. They will exceed all expectations.”  

The shadowy figure nodded, their satisfaction evident even in the darkness. “Good. The Republic will need every soldier it can muster.”  

The Kaminoan inclined their head, their expression unreadable. “As you command.”  

The figure turned, their cloak swirling as they disappeared into the shadows. Behind them, the cloning facilities continued their relentless work, the fate of the galaxy being forged in their sterile halls.  

————

Back in the Jedi Council Chamber, the air was thick with tension. The holographic transmission of the Separatist declaration had left the Council members visibly shaken, their usual composure frayed by the gravity of the situation. 

Yoda sat at the center, his ears twitching slightly as he absorbed the implications of what they had just witnessed. Mace Windu’s holographic form stood nearby, his arms crossed and his expression grim.  

“This changes everything,” Ki-Adi-Mundi said, his voice low and troubled. “The Separatists have declared war, and Dooku has positioned himself as the Republic’s savior. We cannot afford to underestimate him.”  

Shaak Ti nodded, her tone measured but laced with concern. “The revelation of this army Dooku speaks of is troubling. If he has been preparing for war in secret, it suggests a level of planning and coordination we were not prepared for.”  

Plo Koon leaned forward, his modulated voice resonating with quiet resolve. “We must act quickly. The Republic will look to us for guidance, and we cannot afford to falter.”  

Yoda’s gaze swept the room, his expression unreadable. “Agree, I do. But divided, we must not be. United, we must stand. And for that, Peter’s inclusion on the Council, we need.”  

The room fell silent, the weight of Yoda’s words sinking in. Ki-Adi-Mundi frowned, his skepticism evident. “Master Yoda, with all due respect, this is not the time to revisit old debates. We face a galactic crisis. Peter’s nomination can wait.”  

“Wait, it cannot,” Yoda said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The Chosen One, Peter is. His balance, his perspective—crucial, they are, in the days ahead. Divided, we are. United, we must be. And for that, Peter’s place on the Council, it is.”  

Windu stepped forward, his deep voice carrying the weight of authority. “Yoda is right. Peter’s abilities are unmatched, and his insights have already proven invaluable. If we are to face the challenges ahead, we need him on the Council.”  

The Council members exchanged uneasy glances, their reluctance evident. But the gravity of the situation left little room for debate.  

“Very well,” Shaak Ti said finally, her tone resigned. “Let us proceed with the vote.”  

One by one, the Council members cast their votes, their expressions a mix of reluctance and resolve. When the final vote was tallied, Yoda nodded, his expression solemn.  

“Accepted, Peter’s nomination is,” he said, his voice carrying a note of finality. “A member of the Jedi Council, he now is.”  

The room fell silent, the weight of the decision hanging in the air. The galaxy was on the brink of war, and the Jedi Order had just taken a step that would change its course forever.  

————

Meanwhile, aboard Atlas, Peter was having a very different kind of crisis.  

He stood in the ship’s common area, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender as Natasha, Mikaela, and Padmé glared at him from across the room. The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken accusations.  

Peter smiled awkwardly, hoping to smooth things over. “Uh… hey?”

But before he could say anything more, Rocket came barreling down the corridor, his tiny arms waving frantically.  

“Quill! Quill!” Rocket shouted, his voice panicked. “You gotta see this!”  

Peter frowned, his exhaustion giving way to concern. “What is it, Rocket? What’s going on?”  

Rocket shoved a datapad into Peter’s hands, the screen displaying a paused holographic transmission. “Just watch.”  

Peter pressed play, and his eyes widened as the image of Wat Tambor, San Hill, Passel Argente, and Shu Mai appeared, their voices echoing through the corridor as they declared their independence from the Republic.  

“This is an honor to stand before you, for you represent the freedom and the future of our galaxy…”  

Peter’s heart sank as he watched the transmission, the weight of the situation crashing down on him. 

The galaxy was on the brink of war. 

“Oh, sh*t,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.  

A/N: 2043 words :)