Count Dooku did not look back as his solar sailer cut free of Geonosis,Below him, the planet burned. The red deserts were scarred by fire and wreckage, factories still screaming as they birthed machines even while clone gunships withdrew into the sky. The battle had not been won but it had served its purpose. Chaos had been unleashed, and the galaxy had crossed a threshold from which it could never return.
Within the quiet confines of his ship, Dooku stood alone, cloak unmoving, silver hair catching the pale light of hyperspace calculations. In his gloved hand rested a data cylinder, old and unassuming, its surface etched with sigils few living beings could understand.
Plans.
Not for a fleet.Not for an army.
For annihilation.
Hyperspace swallowed the ship, and Geonosis vanished behind him.
Coruscant never slept.
Even at its highest levels, where the spires pierced the clouds and the air traffic thinned to whispers, the city hummed with power. Beneath the Senate district, hidden behind layers of false walls and forgotten access routes, a private chamber waited in silence.
Darth Sidious stood at its center.
The hood of his cloak cast his face into shadow, yellow eyes glowing faintly as the room's door hissed open. Dooku entered and knelt without hesitation, extending the data cylinder with reverence.
"My Master," he said. "The first blow has been struck."
Sidious accepted the cylinder, turning it slowly between his fingers as though feeling the future itself.
"The Jedi survived," Sidious said calmly.
"They were never meant to die," Dooku replied. "Only to bleed."
A thin smile curved beneath the hood.
Sidious activated the hologram.
Light unfolded into impossible geometry vast frameworks, power conduits the size of cities, reactor chambers built around a singular, terrible concept. A sphere. Hollowed. Armed. Alive.
A battle station capable of ending civilizations.
"The culmination of centuries of Sith knowledge," Sidious said softly. "The final argument."
Dooku inclined his head. "The galaxy will not know it exists until it is too late."
"Nor should it," Sidious replied. "The war must mature first. Fear must become routine. Dependency must replace freedom."
He deactivated the hologram and turned away, already thinking beyond the moment.
"The Clone Wars will grind the Republic and the Separatists alike," Sidious continued. "Systems will beg for protection. Industries will grow fat on contracts. By the time peace is offered, no one will remember how to live without chains."
Dooku rose slowly. "And the plans?"
Sidious did not answer immediately.
Instead, he reached out through the dark side.
Palpus felt the summons before the transmission arrived.
His ship cut through hyperspace toward Coruscant, its course precise, deliberate. Outside the viewport, starlines blurred into abstraction. Inside, Palpus stood with hands clasped behind his back, mind occupied not with the war, but with numbers.
Shipyards.Energy flows.Supply chains stretching across half the galaxy.
Kuat Drive Yards alone had seen its valuation triple since Geonosis and that was merely the beginning.
The comm chimed.
"Come to me," Sidious said, his voice slipping directly into Palpus's mind. "We have reached the next phase."
Palpus smiled faintly.
The meeting of the heavy industries took place beneath Coruscant, far from public chambers and Senate holos. Executives arrived behind sealed identities Kuat, Rothana, Baktoid, Sienar each believing they had secured exclusive access, each unaware how little power they truly held.
Palpus stood at the center of the chamber, calm, composed, youthful features betraying none of the weight he carried. He spoke of logistics first fleet deployment timelines, raw material shortages, energy routing. He spoke of money second credits flowing through shell accounts, bonds tied to wartime production, insurance policies written on entire sectors.
They listened.
They agreed.
They signed.
By the time the meeting ended, the war had been quietly reorganized around his designs.
When the chamber emptied, Sidious emerged from the shadows,"You move them as pieces," he said approvingly,"They move themselves," Palpus replied. "I only show them where profit lies,"Sidious extended the data cylinder,"The future," he said. "Yours to build."
Palpus accepted it, and as he activated the hologram, the vast skeletal outline of the Death Star bloomed into existence between them. He did not recoil. He did not marvel.
He analyzed.
"This will require a star's output," Palpus said calmly. "And secrecy beyond any prior project."
"The Unknown Regions," Sidious replied. "Where hyperspace itself resists intrusion. Where fleets can vanish."Palpus nodded. "Construction can begin immediately. Phased development. Distributed labor cells. No single group will understand the whole."
"Good," Sidious said. "The Jedi must remain blind."
"They will," Palpus answered. "The Dark Veil holds."
Sidious's smile widened, slow and satisfied.
"Then begin," he commanded. "Let the galaxy fight its war. While we prepare its end."
Palpus bowed deeply.
As he turned away, carrying the plans that would one day shatter worlds, Coruscant's endless lights burned beneath him each one a system, each one a future already measured, calculated, and condemned.
The Death Star had not yet been built.
But it had already begun.