At the start of their investigation, nothing seemed unusual.
The files were a mix of old cases, some aimed at Palpatine, others that he had encountered years ago.
Individually, each report appeared ordinary.
But after Yoda and Mace Windu laid everything out and read through the full list, a creeping unease settled over them.
From the very day Palpatine first set foot on Coruscant, all the way to his rise as Speaker, one pattern emerged with disturbing clarity.
Very few of those who stood before him, whether as rivals, investigators, or even chance contacts… ended well.
Something was deeply wrong.
They were watching a live broadcast when the feeling struck.
Without exchanging many words, both Jedi Masters silently agreed to set aside the feed and focus entirely on the data.
They were powerful in the Force, not data analysts. Yet their instincts screamed louder than ever.
It was like staring at a landscape through a fogged window, they could see the shape of something massive, but not the details.
"Windu," Yoda said quietly, "what think you we should do?"
Just then, Garfield's voice crackled through the broadcast, encouraging words to the players. The sound sparked something in Windu's mind.
"We are Jedi Knights," Windu replied slowly. "We wield the Force. But Garfield… he's a king. His perspective reaches further than ours."
"Let him see this."
Yoda's ears twitched in quiet approval. Windu had grown.
His refusal to rush in, his willingness to seek broader wisdom… this was the return to the living Force.
"Well spoken," Yoda said. "Send him the information, we will."
He turned his head slightly. "Central Computer."
"What orders does Master Yoda have?"
"Transmit this data to Master Garfield."
"Following your instructions."
The central computer processed the files swiftly and routed them to Garfield's personal terminal.
Garfield, however, hadn't brought it with him.
He'd tossed it to his robot dog, who now lay curled near the luxury box's sofa, idly processing background tasks.
Inside the box, Garfield was mid-bite into a simmering hot pot, belting out a tune with questionable rhythm.
The robot dog's optics lit up.
"Master, a message from the Jedi Temple. There is information requiring your analysis."
Garfield swallowed. "Open it. Let's see."
The robot dog projected the files into the air. Garfield scanned the cases, dates, locations, names, and investigators.
Then his eyes lingered on Palpatine's face, appearing again and again across the timeline.
He set down his chopsticks.
So the Jedi Temple has noticed something wrong with Palpatine.
A slow smile spread across Garfield's face.
Well… might as well lend a paw.
"Robot dog," he said, picking up his drink, "build me a table. Name, time, place, case investigator, make it as detailed as possible."
"Every appearance of Palpatine, even as a passerby or brief contact, mark with a red line."
The robot dog's processors hummed.
"As you command, Master."
Don't mention robots are convenient. Transformers, tools, even a robot dog like this one can carry out orders with flawless precision.
In just a few seconds, the robot dog compiled nearly a hundred cases of varying sizes and difficulty.
It then went a step further, listing every connection between Palpatine and the people involved: the accused, the witnesses, even random passersby who happened to be at the scene.
From the finished table, one thing became unmistakably clear.
Again and again, the personnel in these cases had some kind of intersection with Palpatine.
One case? That's nothing.
Two cases? A coincidence.
Three cases? You're unlucky.
Four cases? My god, go pray.
Five cases? You should buy a lottery ticket.
Six cases? Don't even leave the house.
Seven cases? Honestly, just end it yourself.
But nearly a hundred cases?
Either Palpatine had the widest circle of friends in the galaxy… or he was the reincarnation of a jinx. A walking disaster.
A broom star in human form.
Garfield stared at the screen for a long moment, then gave a quiet order. "Send the caution back to the Temple."
The robot dog completed the transmission, then did something unusual.
It shook its head twice, paused, and turned to stare at Garfield with what could only be described as a hesitant expression.
Garfield didn't notice at first.
He was too busy fishing an octopus ball out of the hot pot, one of those chewy delicacies from a planet covered entirely by hundred-percent seawater.
He popped it into his mouth and chewed contentedly.
Then he felt the robot dog's gaze.
He turned his head. "What's the matter?"
The robot dog's optical sensor flickered.
"Master," it said, "if this Palpatine is an enemy… why not kill him directly? Based on my data analysis, the risk factor could be reduced to—"
The robot dog replied, "Master, if Palpatine is an enemy, why not just kill him directly? According to my data analysis, that would minimize the danger."
Garfield pointed to the bustling competition scene. "You can't solve everything with brute force."
"Brute force is indeed the most direct and effective method, but its destructive power is too great. Some preparation is required beforehand. Unless absolutely necessary, it's best not to use it directly."
The robot dog shook its head.
It was merely a military auxiliary unit, something like a working dog in human society.
Effectively executing orders was its strength. Planning was the job of the intelligence staff.
"I still don't fully understand your intention," said the robot dog, "but I'll record this for future reference. You are a great mentor."
Pleased by the flattery, Garfield happily ate, drank, and watched the competition.
The Galactic Battle Royale was the most exciting event.
Weapons from the Star Wars universe weren't overly complicated, laser weapons were for petty criminals, and the rest were mostly specialized gadgets.
There were climbing devices that would suddenly break.
Gadgets that occasionally failed mid-use, leaving you visible at the worst moment.
Powerful energy absorption devices that worked brilliantly, right up until they exploded.
And burrowing tools that would randomly stop functioning, leaving half your body exposed above ground.
Of course, some of these tools worked perfectly. It all depended on your luck.
The prize money was attractive, but the real fun was watching how the contestants used their unpredictable gear.
As everyone knows, some people are lucky.
Others are simply born unlucky.
Even with multiple times the standard supplies, the situation remained the same. The game's dynamics shifted constantly, you could never predict the final winner.
That was the charm of it all.
Of course, hot pot was still Garfield's favorite.
That, and some excellent dried fish from a planet whose name he couldn't quite remember.
These dried fish were crafted by a top-tier master using eight stars and eight arrows, dried over forty-nine days, pollution-free, and containing no fish meat whatsoever.
Garfield took one look and immediately threw the whole batch into the warship's furnace.
Winning or losing the competition didn't matter to him.
He just wanted excitement, to make some money, and incidentally, to find Pandora, who was hiding somewhere.
With the game company's soaring popularity, Garfield's footage spread to every corner of the universe.
If that Godzilla saw it, she was probably already lying low.
Finding that reckless idiot wouldn't be easy.
Luckily, she had a death wish. Who knew what kind of suicidal stunt she was pulling somewhere in the universe?
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦
Somewhere in the universe, a colossal cosmic beast thousands of meters long was running for its life.
It was a notorious menace, a disaster wherever it went.
One day, it sensed a strange power fluctuation, the irresistible temptation of delicious prey. So, it used its formidable abilities to drift toward the source.
But less than ten minutes later, it regretted everything.
For some reason, the creature suddenly severed one of its own thousand-meter-long tentacles.
Right before its eyes came the smell of roasting barbecue.
To survive, it had no choice but to blast its way into a dangerous gravity well.
Through desperate struggle, it barely escaped with its life.