Above the pale green surface of Naboo, the Trade Federation's blockade had fully formed—dozens of Lucrehulk-class battleships stretching across the planet's orbit like a metallic wall. Droid control ships floated in position, flanked by swarms of Vulture droids patrolling the perimeter. It was a show of power—of domination.
But unknown to them, the world below was empty.
The cities, farmlands, and settlements of Naboo were silent. Theed itself stood like a painted shell—untouched, but hollow. The true population—all four billion—had already been relocated. Quietly. Seamlessly. Every man, woman, and child had been evacuated beneath the surface, secured deep in the labyrinthine bunkers constructed under Jin-Woo's command.
And now, just as in the original canon, the Jedi Consular vessel emerged from hyperspace. Clean. Unarmed. It glided toward the flagship Lucrehulk and was granted docking clearance.
Inside the massive circular command bridge, Viceroy Nute Gunray stood watching the display with a twitch of unease.
"Send them to Conference Room 1," he ordered, fidgeting with the cuffs of his ornate robe. "Make them wait."
The Jedi—Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi—were escorted inside, calm and unreadable. As expected, Gunray gave the silent signal.
Poison gas flooded the chamber. But—
Ten minutes later.
"Sir!" a B1 battle droid marched into the command room, voice flat and mechanical. "The Jedi Knights… are gone."
Nute Gunray blinked once, confusion setting in.
"Gone?" he repeated, voice climbing. "Gone where? Check the ventilation system—they must be hiding there!"
Rune Haako immediately pulled up the internal schematics. Daultay Dofine leaned over the console, reviewing the scan output.
"We've already checked," Dofine muttered grimly. " It's like they were never even there."
Gunray's lip twitched. Panic edging in.
"What about the Consular ship?!"
Haako's hands flew across the console, pulling up docking bay feed.
"…Gone," he said. "Vanished."
Gunray's voice cracked as he spun toward the holoterminal. "Then contact him! I want to speak to Lord Sidious—now!"
Daultay Dofine leaned in, his tone uneasy. "Do you think… the Armored Man never left Naboo? That his technology tricked us into believing it?"
Gunray shook his head quickly, panic rising behind his composure. "No. We double-checked his departure logs. He left Naboo a month ago. The energy trail from his ship—it caused a ripple. He's gone. It wasn't him."
As the transmission connected, the holopad flickered—revealing the cloaked figure of Darth Sidious, shrouded in shadow, his voice low and edged with irritation.
"Viceroy," he said coldly. "You have contacted me a second time today. This had better be worth the interruption."
Nute Gunray bowed slightly, visibly shaken. "My lord, the ambassadors—the Jedi—they've vanished. Their ship is gone too. No trace."
Sidious said nothing at first. His eyes narrowed beneath the hood.
It's confirmed. The Armored Man and Jin-Woo are not the same. One staged a theatrical exit—broadcasting power, grandeur, and mystique. The other operates a sly merchant, always bartering, always watching. But something still feels off. As if I've stepped into another trap. Or perhaps… just a bluff.
He dismissed the thought for now. What mattered was control. And momentum.
"Have you begun landing your troops, Viceroy?" Sidious asked, voice cool and precise.
Gunray nodded hurriedly. "Already underway, Lord Sidious."
"Good," Sidious said. His tone darkened with warning. "Then I expect the treaty to be signed. Do not fail me again."
In the throne room of Theed Palace, tension filled the air.
Padmé Amidala stood at the center, surrounded by advisors, guards, and trusted aides. A holoprojector flickered in front of her—displaying the image of Senator Palpatine. His face was slightly distorted by interference, but the transmission still came through.
"How could that be true?" Palpatine's voice echoed, fragmented by the weak signal. "I have assurances from the Chancellor… his ambassadors did arrive. It must be… the Trade Federation… negotiate—get—"
The feed glitched again. Static laced the edges of his figure.
But in that flickering moment, something happened.
For a split second—just a heartbeat—Palpatine's projection faltered. In the shimmer of distortion, Jin-Woo's face appeared beside padme . Calm. Silent.
He winked. The image returned to Palpatine as if nothing had changed, but within that instant, the Sith Lord's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He said nothing, expression composed, as always—but Jin-Woo knew.
He saw me.
Moments later, the entire transmission collapsed into static. The Trade Federation had commenced full communications jamming across Naboo.
Which, of course… had been their mistake.
Padmé turned quickly to Jin-Woo. "Your thoughts?"
Jin-Woo stepped forward, hands calmly folded behind his back.
"My thoughts?" he repeated. "Don't respond. That wasn't a live message. What you just saw… was a recording. Altered. Spliced. The Trade Federation is running damage control—and trying to use Palpatine's face to buy time."
Bibble frowned, leaning forward with concern. "You're certain?"
Jin-Woo nodded once. "The real Palpatine is likely mid-breakdown right now. Last time he saw me, he had a… let's call it a dementia episode. The man couldn't even speak properly."
Bibble blinked, then sighed. "Poor guy. I suppose even good men can be caught in your web, Jin-Woo."
Jin-Woo didn't reply right away. But in his mind, the thought came sharp.
Good guy, my ass. He's like ninety-nine percent of the rest of you end up like this . Only better at hiding it. But in this moment… he acts exactly how I want. Confused. Frozen. Manipulated. And now, no one will dare reach out to the Republic. Not until I say so.
Then, calmly, Jin-Woo spoke aloud.
"You can come out now, Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan."
From behind a velvet curtain, the two Jedi emerged, their presence quiet but unmistakable. Both looked alert—ready—but confused by the ease of it all.
Jin-Woo didn't waste time.
"Besides me," he continued, stepping toward a side panel near the throne wall, "there are decoys of every one of you. The Queen, the advisors, the security heads."
With a flick of his wrist, a hidden wall slid open—and inside were perfectly-crafted replicas. Artificial bodies—lifelike enough to fool most sensors and droids. Each one modeled to match Amidala, her guards, and every royal figure that mattered.
Captain Panaka immediately stepped forward, tense. "My Queen… this is a dangerous situation. Your Highness, our volunteer guards won't be able to hold off a full invasion. The Federation army is battle-hardened. If they land… we're trapped."
But Padmé didn't flinch. "Actually… there's a way."
She turned to Jin-Woo with the faintest smile. "You know what you asked him for four months ago, Captain? You're about to see it."
Jin-Woo exhaled with amusement. Then he snapped his fingers.
The floor beneath the throne room rumbled. Panels shifted. Massive mechanisms unlocked—and then, in complete silence, the floor began to retract. Downward.
Panaka flinched as the entire throne platform descended rapidly—like a vast elevator system engaging. The structure plunged a full kilometer beneath Theed.
When the descent stopped, they stood before a vast expanse of steel, holograms, fortified partitions, and hidden infrastructure.
Level A – Command Nexus.
"Welcome to the bunker," Jin-Woo said. "Built beneath the Theed Palace. Custom design—mine and the Queen's."
Padmé stepped forward confidently. "All civilians have already been evacuated over the past 30 days . Four billion people, moved in waves. The surface is empty."
Obi-Wan's brows furrowed, eyes darting across the scale of the facility. "Wait… I've heard rumors. People say you were always around here, Jin-Woo. Is this what Queen Amidala meant by preparations? You've been getting ready for the Trade Federation this whole time?"
Jin-Woo shrugged, smirking just a little. "Awesome, right?"
At that moment, Padmé made a silent gesture with her hand—subtle but practiced. Her aide, Sabé, caught the signal immediately. With fluid efficiency, they moved into position for the switch.
Sabé stepped forward.
Padmé, now assuming her handmaiden role once more, lowered her head slightly. "Master Jedi, I need to step away to attend to my people. The 'Great Armored Adventure'… was a cover. A way to move the population out quietly."
Qui-Gon gave a respectful nod. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
He turned to Jin-Woo, eyes thoughtful. "How many layers did you create to support this kind of megastructure?"
Jin-Woo tilted his head, casually folding his arms. "I lost count. Alphabetical tiers help… each level houses multiple substructures."
He tapped his fingers on his arm, then added, "From Level A to Level I, at least."
Suddenly, the nearby reinforced doors hissed open. Despondent Pyre entered—gliding forward with mechanical grace, accompanied by Rey, who walked beside him with calm steps.
"There are thirty-five mega-layers, give or take," Despondent Pyre stated flatly. "Each one optimized for either habitation, defense, logistics, or scientific operations."
Rey added with a small grin, "You could call it a planet inside a planet."
Captain Panaka stepped forward, posture straightened but respectful. "I… apologize for doubting you, Jin-Woo. And please… pass my regards to the Armored Man. Seeing him surface again after nine years—some of us thought he was a myth. I heard you two are friends?"
Jin-Woo's expression didn't change, but a flicker of thought passed through him.
The Armored Man is me, dumbass. But no one needs to know that yet. Qui-Gon already suspects enough. I don't need another person sniffing around.
Instead, he gave a polite smile. "I'll be sure to deliver your message."
Sio Bibble cleared his throat, stepping forward with furrowed brows.
"I will contact the Republic… and senator Palpatine. Let him know we are—"
Before he could finish, Sabé—now stepping into her queenly role—moved forward with practiced grace. Her tone was calm, but absolute.
"No. No communication, Governor Bibble."
Behind her, Padmé—now playing the part of a handmaiden once more—stood silently, watching.
Sabé continued without hesitation. "We've been safe for the last three days thanks to careful deception Even our communication channels were mimicked and monitored. We don't know what's real anymore… who's intercepting what. The only way forward is clear—we deliver the truth ourselves. In person. To Coruscant."
Bibble's lips pressed into a tight line. He gave a slow nod. "…Very well."
Sabé, still in her Queen persona, turned toward Jin-Woo.
"Shall we head to Level C? That's where you said the hangar is, right?"
Jin-Woo gave a small nod. "We'll be using my Defender-class light corvette. Much safer than the royal starship—faster, stronger, less traceable."
Sabé offered a composed smile. "Very well. But my pilot will handle it. Ric Olié is the best pilot on Naboo."
Jin-Woo exaggerated a sigh and wore a fake, wounded expression.
" it's still my ship. No scratches, understood?"
A voice slipped into his mind—clear, teasing, and distinctly Morgan's.
I've already influenced Sabé. Told her exactly what kind of terrifying wreckage you've left across galaxies. Said you were a reckless pilot with a horrifying track record. She took the warning seriously.
Jin-Woo responded through the link, his tone sharper.
Good. That'll do. I need to go to Tatooine either way… and I can't afford to draw too much attention. If Ric Olié mishandles my ship, I'll have the perfect excuse to step in.
There was a brief pause. Then Jin-Woo's next thought landed heavy.
It's time I go there… and decide the Chosen One's fate. Whether I kill him… or spare him.
The group descended deep into the heart of the facility—Level C, the Security and Military Housing tier.
As they approached the private hangar, the sleek form of Jin-Woo's Defender-class light corvette came into view, its red plating and antique curvature catching the low light. The ship stood like a relic from a forgotten age—elegant but deadly.
Qui-Gon stopped, eyes scanning the hull.
"This ship… looks like it came from the Old Republic."
Jin-Woo gave a half-smirk. "I have a thing for antiques."
Before anyone could respond, a familiar voice echoed down the corridor with heavy-footed running.
"Waaaaittt!"
Boss Nass burst into view, breath heavy but eyes proud as he waved one arm dramatically.
"Yousa cannot be goin' without takin' dis one!" he declared, shoving Jar Jar forward with a grin.
"Dis Gungan—General Binks! Himsa must be comin' too! Show da pride of da Gungan people to da big galaxy, ehhh!"
Jar Jar flailed slightly, clearly trying to stay upright after being pushed. He straightened himself, flustered, smiling awkwardly.
"Y-Yes, Boss! Mesa doin' my best… trufully… mesa try not to die, okay?"
Sabé turned toward him, amused but gracious.
" I always welcome new assistance."
Jin-Woo didn't even blink.
If he survives, maybe he's lucky. If not… I guess the timeline stays intact.
In the cockpit of the Defender-class light corvette, Ric Olié sat in the pilot's seat, eyes wide with restrained disbelief as Jin-Woo finished the rundown of his controls.
Fifteen minutes. That's all it took for Jin-Woo to summarize a ship layered with hidden systems, redirecting energy flows through alien nodes, and explaining controls that defied standard logic.
"Done. Understand, Olié?" Jin-Woo asked without looking back, already halfway to the hatch.
Ric nodded stiffly. "Yes. I remember. I think."
Jin-Woo left the cockpit.