Darth Plagueis

by James Luceno

  “I suppose so, Magister,” Tapalo said, signaling for quiet. “But perhaps it’s better to run the risk of defeat rather than ascend to the throne in dishonor.” “Dishonor?” Hill repeated in aggrieved disbelief. “Have we crossed the galaxy to be insulted?” “Wait,” Veruna said, coming to his feet and gesturing for calm. “We meant no insult to Damask Holdings.” He turned to face Tapalo and his handpicked team of ministers and advisers. “Yes, we must be mindful of the concerns of the present electorate, but we shouldn’t allow the fearful voices of a few to cripple our chance of joining the galactic community and raising the profile of the entire Chommell sector. I suggest we act boldly. To avoid being perceived as having bowed to pressure, I say we use this unprecedented visit by Damask Holdings to announce publicly that we and we alone are capable of entering into an arrangement with the Banking Clan and others that will allow Naboo to restructure its debt, achieve favored-world status with the Core, and provide for tax cuts, lower interest rates, and endless opportunities for employment, both on-and offworld.” He clenched his fist for emphasis. “We must seize this moment before it disappears.” Slowly, Tapalo and the others began to nod in agreement.

  “Do you have anything to add, Magister Damask?” Tapalo said at last.

  Damask spread his hands. “Only that we couldn’t have stated our case any better than Theed’s future governor already has.” “Hear, hear,” one of Tapalo’s advisers said, lifting his goblet of wine in a toast to Veruna.

  The rest followed suit, and drank.

  And Damask thought: One day soon, Veruna will be the King of Naboo.

  The plan called for the Muuns to spend the night in Theed and resume talks in the morning. With Hill and the others being shown to accommodations, Plagueis excused himself and struck out on foot for the university building on the opposite side of the city. His route took him through leafy parks, over two bridges, past towers and obelisks, and through the heart of Palace Plaza, with its pair of triumphal arches. Crowned by a statue of a human figure, the university’s central rotunda was set back from one of the Solleu tributaries, dominating a precinct of stately buildings and public places. Plagueis located the student center and went to the registration desk, which was staffed by a young fair-haired female who stared openly at him as he approached.

  “I’m looking for a student named Palpatine,” he said in Basic.

  “I know him,” she said, nodding.

  “Do you know where I might find him just now? Is he perhaps attending a class?” She blew out her breath. “He comes and goes. Maybe I saw him at the Youth Program Building.” “Maybe.”

  “I think it was him.”

  Humans, Plagueis thought. “Can you direct me there?”

  Her answer was a flimsi map, which Plagueis used to weave his way across campus to the headquarters of the Legislative Youth Program — an organization that oversaw Naboo’s mandatory public service curricula. Young people of both sexes buzzed about him, some scarcely noticing him, others going out of their way to get a closer look. At various times he asked after Palpatine, and was able to narrow his search to a square that fronted the columned library, where he eventually recognized Palpatine from holos Hill had provided, walking briskly through the square in the company of a human male nearly twice his age, black-haired and wearing more formal attire. Palpatine himself was dressed in slacks, short boots, and a loose-fitting shirt that was closed at the collar. Of average height, he had wavy red hair, a prominent nose, and a narrow face that humans would probably have found friendly. His back was straight, his arms were long relative to the length of his torso, and he moved with an easy grace.

  For some time Plagueis observed him from a distance, approaching only after Palpatine had parted company with the older man. Palpatine didn’t spy him until Plagueis was only steps away, and when he did he turned sharply and began to walk in the opposite direction.

  “Young human,” Plagueis said, hastening his own pace. “A moment of your time.” When Palpatine failed to acknowledge him, he lengthened his stride and called: “Palpatine.” Slowing to a reluctant halt, Palpatine looked over his shoulder. “How do you know my name?” “I know more about you than just your name,” Plagueis said, coming abreast of him.

  Interest and caution mingled in Palpatine’s blue eyes. “Normally I take exception to people claiming to know something about me, but since I know something about you, as well, I’ll restrain myself.” From doing what? Plagueis wondered. “What is it you know about me?” Palpatine exhaled in mild impatience. “You’re Hego Damask. The president — no, the ‘Magister’—of Damask Holdings. My father said that you were coming to Naboo to meet with Bon Tapalo. Your group is shoring up his bid for the throne.” “Did your father say that I might be coming to meet with you also?” “Why would he? And what exactly is it you want with me?”

  “I believe we have something in common.”

  “I very much doubt that.”

  “Perhaps all the more reason to become acquainted, then.”

  Palpatine glanced around him, as if searching for an escape.

  “Who was the man you were speaking with earlier?” Plagueis asked.

  Palpatine started to say something, then cut himself off and began again. “My mentor in the youth program. His name is Vidar Kim. He’s an aide to Naboo’s Republic Senator, and will likely succeed her.” He looked hard at Plagueis. “And not a supporter of Tapalo.” Plagueis weighed the response. “Are you interested in politics beyond your participation in the Legislative Youth Program?” “I’m not sure what I want to do after university.”

  “But you’ve some interest in politics.”

  “I didn’t say that. I said I wasn’t sure.”

  Plagueis nodded and looked up at the library building. “I’m a stranger to Theed. Would you consider showing me around?” Palpatine’s jaw dropped a bit. “Listen, I’m—”

  “Just a short tour.”

  Engaging in small talk, they walked along the river in the direction of the concert hall and Queen Yram’s Needle, then crossed a footbridge and began to angle toward the palace complex. Aside from providing Plagueis with holos of Palpatine, Larsh Hill hadn’t been able offer much information regarding the youth’s background. Though he lacked an appellation, Palpatine’s father was a wealthy, influential royal, with a reputation for advocating for Naboo’s continued independence and isolation. The family name was thought to be an ancient name of state among hereditary noble families, or perhaps a name borrowed from an ancient region of Naboo.

  “Theed is a beautiful city,” Plagueis remarked as they emerged from a narrow lane into the Palace Plaza.

  “If you like museums,” Palpatine said offhandedly.

  “You’ve no interest in art?”

  Palpatine looked at him sideways. “I enjoy art. But I’m more of a minimalist.” “In all things?”

  “I wish Theed weren’t so crowded. I wish the winters were milder. I wish our King had fewer advisers and ministers.” “That sounds like a political statement.”

  “It’s simply my personal opinion.”

  “They’re not mutually exclusive.”

  Palpatine stopped short. “What are you attempting to draw out of me?” Plagueis indicated a nearby bench. When Palpatine finally relented and sat down, Plagueis said, “It has come to my attention that you were responsible for the release of some information that has aided Tapalo’s campaign.” Genuine surprise blossomed on Palpatine’s face. “How—”

  Plagueis held up a hand. “That isn’t important right now. What is is that you did so against what would have been the wishes of your father, your mentor, and some of the other royals.” “Are you planning to divulge this?”

  Plagueis searched Palpatine’s face. “What might happen if I did?” “To begin with, my father would murder me.”

  “Literally?”

  Palpatine exhaled forcefully. “He would disown me.”

  “It’s true, then. You and your father find yourselves on oppos
ite sides of the issues that animate the coming election.” Palpatine lowered his gaze to the ground. “It would be far stranger to find ourselves on the same side of any issue.” He looked up again at Plagueis. “I want to see Naboo break with the past. I want us to belong to the greater galaxy. Is it wrong to want to play an important role in the history of the Republic?” Plagueis rocked his head. “Governments rise and fall.”

  “You have a better idea of how to govern the galaxy?”

  Plagueis allowed a laugh. “I’m just an old Muun who wouldn’t know about that.” Seeing through him, Palpatine snorted. “Just how old are you?”

  “In human years I would be well over one hundred.”

  Palpatine whistled. “I envy you that.”

  “Why?”

  “All the things you’ve done and can still do.”

  “What would you do?”

  “Everything,” Palpatine said.

  They got up from the bench and began to amble back toward the university complex. Plagueis submerged himself deeply in the Force to study Palpatine, but he was unable to glean very much. Humans were difficult to read in the easiest of cases, and Palpatine’s mind was awash in conflict. So much going on in that small brain, Plagueis told himself. So much emotional current and self-interest. So unlike the predictable, focused intellects of the Outer Rim sentients, especially the hive-minded among them.

  Palpatine stopped alongside a brightly colored, triple-finned landspeeder with a pointed nose and a repulsorlift engine that looked powerful enough to raise a loadlifter droid.

  “This vehicle is yours?” Plagueis asked.

  Pride shone in Palpatine’s eyes. “A prototype patrol-grade Flash. I race competitively.” “Do you win?”

  “Why else would I bother racing?” Climbing into the speeder, Palpatine centered himself at the controls.

  “I have just the thing to adorn your rearview mirror,” Plagueis said. From his breast pocket he fished a coin of pure aurodium dangling from a length of chain, and dropped it into the palm of Palpatine’s hand. “It’s an antique.” The young human appraised the gift. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” “It’s yours.”

  Palpatine showed him a questioning look.

  “Who knows, perhaps you’ll go into banking one day,” Plagueis said.

  Palpatine laughed in a relaxed way. “Unlikely, Magister Damask.” “I suppose there are better ways to earn credits.”

  Palpatine shook his head. “Credits don’t interest me.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder just what does.”

  Palpatine bit back whatever he was about to say.

  “Palpatine, I wonder how you would feel about working with us — Damask Holdings, I mean.” Palpatine’s thick eyebrows beetled. “In what capacity?”

  “To be perfectly blunt, as a kind of spy.” He went on before Palpatine could speak. “I won’t say that you and I want the same things for Naboo, because clearly — and notwithstanding your feelings about the architecture — you hold your world dear. My group, however, is less interested in Naboo’s government than it is in Naboo’s plasma and what it will fetch on the open market.” Palpatine looked as if the plain truth was something new to him. “If you had phrased that any differently, I would have rejected your offer out of hand.” “Then you accept? You’re willing to update us regarding whatever political machinations your father’s group may have in the works?” “Only if I can report directly to you.”

  Plagueis tried once more to see him in the Force. “Is that your wish?” Palpatine returned a sober nod. “It is.”

  “Then by all means, you’ll report exclusively to me,” Plagueis said. “I’ll see to it that the necessary arrangements are made.” He stepped away from the speeder as Palpatine powered it up.

  Palpatine fell silent for a moment. “I could take you for a ride tomorrow,” he said at last, above the whine of the engine. “If you have time, I mean. Show you some more of Theed and the outskirts.” “If I have your word you won’t go too fast.”

  Palpatine smiled wickedly. “Only fast enough to keep it interesting.”

  10: THE CYCLE OF VIOLENCE

  Flying a meter above the ground, Palpatine’s agile speeder skimmed over the plains below Theed plateau, leaving long curving trails in the tall grasses. The day was bright and clear, the warm air abuzz with insects and strewn with pollen.

  “Exhilarating,” Plagueis said from the passenger-side bucket seat when Palpatine’s foot had eased off the accelerator.

  “Maybe I’ll become a professional racer.”

  “The Naboo might expect more of the eldest son of House Palpatine.”

  “I ignore the expectations of others,” Palpatine said without looking at him.

  “Was the speeder a gift from your father?”

  Palpatine glanced at him. “A bribe — but one I accepted.”

  “Does he approve of your racing?”

  Palpatine made a harsh sound. “My father hasn’t ridden with me for years.”

  “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

  “It has nothing to do with my talents.” Palpatine turned slightly in the driver’s seat. “When I was younger I was responsible for the deaths of two pedestrians. At the time, my father threatened never to allow me to fly, but he eventually relented.”

  “What made him change his mind?”

  Palpatine swung forward. “I wore him down.”

  “I’m sorry,” Plagueis said. “I didn’t know.”

  Although, in fact, he did know. With help from 11-4D he had learned that Palpatine’s troubled past had seen him bounced from one private school to the next, following incidents of petty crime and offenses that would have landed a commoner in a correctional facility. Time and again his father, who shared with his son a penchant for violence, had used his influence to rescue Palpatine and avoid the specter of family scandals. To Plagueis, however, the youth’s transgressions were only further indication of his exceptionality. Here was a youth who had already risen above common morality and had judged himself unique enough to create an individual code of ethics.

  Palpatine pointed to the distant tree line. “There are some ancient ruins in there, but that’s Gungan territory.”

  “Have you had any dealings with them?”

  “Personally, no. But I’ve seen the ones that come into Moenia to trade for goods.”

  “What are your thoughts about them?”

  “Aside from the fact that they are long-eared, slimy-tongued primitives?”

  “Aside from that, yes.”

  Palpatine shrugged. “I don’t mind them, so long as they keep to their submerged cities and waterways.”

  “Not get in the way.”

  “Exactly. Humans deserve to have the upper hand here.”

  Plagueis could not restrain a smile. “There are many worlds in the galaxy where the matter of who has the upper hand, as it were, is in dispute.”

  “That’s because most beings are afraid to take charge. Think what the Republic Senate might accomplish under the leadership of a strong being.”

  “I have given thought to that, Palpatine.”

  “What does the Senate do in response to each and every crisis? It dispatches the Jedi to restore order, and moves on without addressing the roots of the problem.”

  Plagueis found the boy’s youthful ignorance entertaining. “The Jedi could rule the Republic if they wished,” he said after a moment. “I suppose we should be grateful that the Order is dedicated to peace.”

  Palpatine shook his head. “I don’t view it like that. I think that the Jedi have dedicated themselves to limiting change. They wait for the Senate to tell them when and where to intervene, and what to fix, when in fact they could use the Force to impose their will on the entire galaxy, if they wanted. I’d have more respect for them if they did.”

  “Do you grant your father respect when he attempts to impose his will on you?”

  Palpatine’s grip on the steering yoke tightened. “That’s
different. The reason I don’t respect him is because he’s not half as intelligent as he thinks he is. If he could admit to his weaknesses, I could at least pity him.”

  Bringing the speeder to a sudden halt, he turned toward Plagueis once more, his face flushed with anger. Between them, dangling from the rearview mirror, was the coin Plagueis had given him.

  Before long, I will own this human, Plagueis told himself.

  “House Palpatine is wealthy,” the youth went on, “but not nearly as wealthy as some of the other houses, and not nearly as influential with the King and the electorate, despite my father’s attempts to take a leadership position with the royals. He lacks the political acumen needed to elevate our House to a position of true entitlement, and along with it the awareness to recognize that the time has come for Naboo to exploit its matchless resources and join the modern galaxy. Instead, he and his cronies, in complete and utter political ineptitude, want to keep us caged in the past.”

  “Does your mother share his views?”

  Palpatine forced a laugh. “Only because she espouses no views of her own; only because he has made her subservient to him — as he has my well-behaved brothers and sisters, who treat me like an interloper and yet, to my father, represent all I can never be.”

  Plagueis considered the remarks in silence. “And yet you honor your House by going by its name.”

  Palpatine’s expression softened. “For a time I thought about adopting the name of our distaff line. I haven’t rejected the dynasty I was born into. I’ve rejected the name I was given. But not for the grandiose reasons some think. Just the opposite, actually. I’m certain that you, of all beings, understand as much.”