by James Luceno
Initially the plan had been devised as a test, to see whether the Force-suggestion-resistant reptilian sentients could be fashioned into an anti-Jedi army. But in the same way that repeated attempts at replication by cloning had failed, all efforts to fashion them into an obedient army had proved futile. Custom-made for aggression they were, but also unpredictable and unruly. As a result, a redesigned stratagem had been put into motion to test Valorum’s ability to manage a crisis and the Senate’s resolve to end one. But neither Plagueis nor Sidious had expected the Supreme Chancellor to involve the Jedi, and now the modified plan was at risk, as well.
“It’s well and good that Jedi have died,” Plagueis was saying as he, Sidious, and 11-4D entered his cluttered study, “but we must guard against revealing our hand too soon. Was it wise to have the corpses shipped to Coruscant?”
“They had the intended effect on Valorum,” Sidious said.
“Nevertheless, we may have misjudged him.”
“He’s more concerned about his legacy than he is about the Republic, but he may yet win a majority of the Senate over to his side, even at the cost of all his political cachet.”
“We need to engineer a crisis from which he can’t recover,” Plagueis said.
“I have set just such events in motion.”
Plagueis nodded in satisfaction. “Then perhaps there is a beneficial side to this. If the Senate approves an embargo, he will be indebted to you.”
Sidious smiled tightly. “A blockade enacted for a blockade broken.”
“To that end, we must begin to move Viceroy Nute Gunray and King Veruna into position. The Neimoidian was partnered with Valorum during the Stark Conflict. This time we will pit them against each other.”
“I knew Gunray slightly when he served as a Senator. He is acquisitive and ambitious, but oddly immune to intimidation. We will need to win him over.”
“And so we shall: with procurements that will earn him a position among the seven who make up the Trade Federation directorate.”
“How should we approach him?”
“The gift you requisitioned for the Zabrak prompted an idea,” Plagueis said. “Gunray is fond of pylats, which the Neimoidians associate with wealth. The avians are abundant on Neimoidia, but Sojourn’s forests support a rare red-spotted white one, which the Kaminoans supplied. He will never identify it as a clone.”
“A gift from Hego Damask or Senator Palpatine?”
Plagueis looked him up and down. “From Darth Sidious, I think.”
Sidious stared at him in doubt. “By name?”
“Not merely by name, but by title, as well. It is time we make our presence known to a select few.”
“Will the Sith title have any meaning for him?”
“When we make his dreams come true.”
Plagueis began to pace the cool floor. “No Sith have ever been in the position in which we now find ourselves, Darth Sidious: in step with the reemergence of the dark side, fortified by the signs and omens, certain that revenge and victory are near at hand. If the Jedi would abide by their philosophy of acting in accordance with the Force, of doing what is right, they would roll over for the dark. But they resist. Yoda and the rest of the Council members will double their meditation sessions in an effort to peer into the future, only to discover it clouded and unknowable. Only to discover that complacency has opened the door to catastrophe.
“If indeed they have been acting in accordance with the Force, how could we be succeeding in tipping the balance? How could the dark side be gaining ground? In fact, the Jedi have fallen away from their self-assigned duty, their noble path. Could they have prevented it? Perhaps by having remained in control of the Republic, by electing and reelecting Jedi Supreme Chancellors. Or perhaps by absenting themselves completely from the affairs of the Republic, and attending to their arcane rituals in the belief that right thinking by them would keep the Republic strong and on course, the galaxy tipped into the light, instead of having allowed themselves to become marshals and enforcers.”
He cast a questioning look at Sidious. “Do you see the grand error of their ways? They execute the Republic’s business as if it were the business of the Force! But has a political body ever succeeded in being the arbiter of what is right and just? How easy it is for them to bask in self-assurance in their castle on Coruscant. But in so doing, they have rendered themselves ill equipped for the world we have spent a millennium bringing into being.”
He cleared his throat.
“We’re going to back them into a contradiction, Darth Sidious. We’re going to force them to confront the moral quandary of their position, and reveal their flaws by requiring them to oversee the conflicts that plague their vaunted Republic.
“Only Dooku and a handful of others have grasped the truth. All those years ago when I first met him on Serenno, I thought: What a blow it would be to the Order if he could be enticed to leave and embrace the dark side. What a panic it might incite. For if one could leave, then ten or twenty or thirty could follow, and the hollowness at the center of the Order would be plain for all to see.”
The Muun’s eyes narrowed. “One can’t be content to abide by the rules of the Jedi Order or the Force. Only by making the Force serve us have we prevailed. Eight years ago we shifted the galaxy, Darth Sidious, and that shift is now irreversible.”
Approaching, he rested his bony hands on Sidious’s shoulders. “On my first visit to your homeworld I recognized it as a nexus in the Force. And I remember thinking how appropriate it was that the dark side should be hiding on such a beautiful planet.” He paused, straightened, then asked with sudden gravity, “Is Veruna ready, Sidious? I’m concerned that he might be as uncontrollable as the Yinchorri, and that a more malleable leader would better serve our interests.”
Sidious considered the question. “It may not be necessary to remove him, Master. Like Gunray, he favors wealth over honor.”
Plagueis nodded his head slowly. “Then nudge him, Darth Sidious. And let us see which way he leans before we decide his fate.”
24: SITH’ARI
Their targets were only asteroids, but the chromium-nosed yellow starfighters attacked the microcratered rocks as if they posed a threat to Naboo itself. Products of the Theed Space Vessel Engineering Corporation and Nubian Design, and King Veruna’s pet project since his coronation, the sleek, short-winged craft exemplified Naboo’s infatuation with classic design and flagrant extravagance. The starfighters’ engines were said to have set a new standard for emissions control, but for a world that prided itself on environmental awareness, the N-1s seemed entirely out of character and out of place.
“We’re expected to have two additional squadrons ready for flight by the start of the year,” Veruna told Palpatine as they stood at a dorsal viewport in the King’s even more grandiose, mirror-finish Royal Starship. “All will feature twin laser cannons, proton torpedo launchers, and deflector shields, along with R-two astromech droids.”
“A dream come true,” Palpatine said. “Both for you and for the Nubian Design Collective.”
Veruna arched a bushy, gray-and-white eyebrow. “Our deal with Nubian Design was mutually beneficial.”
“Of course it was,” Palpatine said, wondering how much Veruna and his cronies had pocketed on a contract most Naboo had opposed.
Palpatine had arrived with Pestage, and had met downside with Janus Greejatus before rendezvousing with Veruna and some of the members of his advisory council at Theed Hangar, including Prime Counselor Kun Lago and the King’s sharp-featured female security chief Maris Magneta. Conspicuously absent was Theed’s teenage governor, Padmé Naberrie, whose appointment had been Veruna’s compromise to an electorate that had been growing more oppositional with each passing year. Veruna, however, looked none the worse for wear. With his flaring eyebrows, long silver hair, and fussily pointed beard, he still cut a fine, swashbuckling figure. Lago and Magneta were considerably younger and more rough-cut, and had made their distaste for Palpatine and hi
s party felt the moment they had boarded the gleaming starship.
Outside the viewport, strafing runs by Bravo Squadron were reducing asteroids to gravel and space dust.
“That’s Captain Ric Olié in Bravo One,” Veruna said. “Battle-hardened at Chommel Minor.”
Pestage failed to restrain a short laugh. “Against that pirate group whose ships collided with one another?”
Veruna glared at Palpatine. “Your aide seems to have forgotten his place, Senator.”
Palpatine flashed Pestage a look that said nothing and turned back to Veruna. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”
If Veruna was unconvinced, he kept it to himself and fixed his gaze on the distant starfighter exercise. “I plan to end our partnership with the Trade Federation,” he said after a long moment of silence, and without looking at Palpatine.
Palpatine moved slightly to place himself in Veruna’s peripheral view, his eyes wide in genuine surprise. “Is that the purpose of this demonstration?”
The King turned to him. “If I had wanted it to be a show of force, I would have waited until the next scheduled plasma collection. However, since you seem to be asking, both Theed Engineering and Nubian Design assure me that the Federation’s Lucrehulk freighters would be easy prey for our N-Ones.”
Palpatine cut his eyes to Pestage and Greejatus and shook his head in dismay. “Then it’s good you thought to invite me aboard, Your Majesty, because I bring news that may persuade you to rethink your position.”
“What news?” Magneta demanded.
Palpatine ignored her by continuing to speak to Veruna. “This matter has yet to reach the Rotunda, but there is every indication that the Republic is eventually going to grant the Trade Federation permission to arm its ships.”
Veruna’s jaw dropped and he blinked. “With what?”
Palpatine pretended to become flustered. “I don’t know precisely. Turbolasers, certainly, as well as droid starfighters. Whatever combat automata are being produced by Baktoid, Haor Chall, and the hive species.” He gestured out the viewport. “Weapons that will prove to be a deadly match for those starfighters.”
Veruna was still trying to make sense of it. “Why is the Republic doing this?”
“Because of what happened at Yinchorr. Because of persistent attacks by pirates and would-be insurrectionists. And because the Republic refuses to reverse its position on creating a military.”
Veruna stormed away from the viewport, then stopped and whirled on Palpatine. “I don’t believe it. Valorum was successful at Yinchorr. He would never bow to pressure from the Trade Federation.”
“He isn’t bowing to pressure. His strategy is to enter into a deal with the Federation: defensive weaponry in exchange for taxation of the free-trade zones.”
Veruna was speechless.
“This is why I urge Your Majesty to keep Naboo on the proper side of this.”
“Do tell us, Senator,” Lago interrupted, “what it means to be on the proper side?”
Palpatine glanced from Lago to Veruna. “When the matter reaches the Rotunda, Naboo must vote in protest of taxation of the free-trade zones.”
Veruna swallowed and found his voice. “In support of the Trade Federation? With my reelection approaching? You must be mad, Palpatine. Naboo has been under the yoke of the Federation for more than thirty years. The people would never forgive me.”
“Your base remains strong,” Palpatine said. “The people will gradually come to understand that you made the correct decision.”
Veruna smoldered. “I don’t like being put in this position, Palpatine.”
Palpatine adopted a pensive pose, then looked at the King. “There may yet be a way … I’m certain that Hego Damask would be willing to broker a renegotiated deal with the Neimoidian bloc of the Trade Federation—”
“I don’t need Damask to broker anything,” Veruna snapped. “The Muun’s time has come and gone. He’s an anachronism. His enemies did us all a favor by forcing him into early retirement.”
Palpatine’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. And so, with a nudge, he reveals himself.
“If I recall correctly, Damask’s enemies paid dearly.” He fell silent for a moment, repositioning himself in front of the viewport, so that Veruna would have the strafing starfighters in direct view while he listened. “Granted, Sojourn isn’t the impregnable fortress it once was. But Damask’s reach is as long as it ever was, and his ties to the Banking Clan have never been stronger.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Senator,” Magneta interjected, “Naboo’s reach is now long, as well.”
Palpatine glanced over his shoulder at the starfighters, then fixed his eyes on Veruna. “Your Majesty, Damask will not take kindly to being cut out of our dealings with the Trade Federation. He can make trouble.”
Veruna’s gaze wandered back to him. “Let him try. Naboo isn’t the only world he has exploited. We would not want for allies. I’m more concerned about how the Senate would react to our voting against taxation of the trade zones.”
Palpatine forced a breath. “It’s a hopeless situation. The Rim Faction worlds rely on the Trade Federation for goods, so they will likely vote in the negative. The Core Worlds, on the other hand, will vote in favor of taxation, if only to bring revenue to the Republic and avoid having to support the outlying systems. Occupying the middle ground, the Trade Federation stands to win no matter what, in that it will finally be allowed to defend itself, and will force its clients to shoulder the increased costs that will result from taxation.”
“What does all this mean for Valorum?” Lago said.
“I fear that he may not complete his term of office.”
“Who will succeed him?” Veruna asked.
“That’s difficult to say, Your Majesty. Ainlee Teem, I think. Though Bail Antilles enjoys some support.”
Veruna thought about it. “What are the implications for Naboo should the Gran win over the Alderaanian?”
“Then, of course, you would have a friend in the chancellorship.”
Veruna tugged at his beard. “I’ll take your recommendations into account. But be forewarned, Palpatine, I will brook no deception. From you”—he fixed Pestage and Greejatus with a gimlet stare—“or any of your cabal. Remember: I know where the bodies are buried.”
Time is short.
Vines and creepers had clawed their way up the walls and towers of the old fort, and lianas linked the crenellated parapets to the leafy crowns of nearby trees. Insects scurried underfoot, foraging for food or laden with bits of vegetation or scraps of splintered wood. The previous night’s storms had left puddles ankle-deep on the walkway, and runoff cascaded through firing holes. The forest Plagueis had planted and stocked with rare and exotic game seemed determined to rid Sojourn of the fortress that had been erected in its midst.
From the tallest of the towers, he gazed over the treetops at the rim of the moon’s parent world and the distant star they shared. Sojourn was running fast and the last light was fading. The air was balmy and riotous with the drone and stridulation of insects, the territorial cries of avians, the mournful waking howls of creatures of the night. Clouds of bats spilled from caves in the escarpment, devouring bloodsuckers born by the strong rains. A breeze rose out of nowhere.
Time is short.
Still in safekeeping on Aborah were texts and holocrons that recounted the deeds and abilities of Sith Masters who, so it was said and written, had been able to summon wind or rain or fracture the skies with conjured lightning. In their own words or those of their disciples, a few Dark Lords claimed to have had the ability to fly, become invisible, or transport themselves through space and time. But Plagueis had never succeeded in duplicating any of those phenomena.
From the start Tenebrous had told him that he lacked the talent for Sith sorcery, even though the inability hadn’t owed to a deficiency of midi-chlorians. It’s an innate gift, the Bith would say when pressed, and one that he had lacked, as well. Sorcery paled in comparison with B
ith science, regardless. But Plagueis now understood that Tenebrous had been wrong about sorcery, as he had been wrong about so many things. Yes, the gift was strongest in those who, with scant effort, could allow themselves to be subsumed by the currents of the Force and become conduits for the powers of the dark side. But there was an alternative path to those abilities, and it led from a place where the circle closed on itself and sheer will substituted for selflessness. Plagueis understood, too, that there were no powers beyond his reach; none he couldn’t master through an effort of will. If a Sith of equal power had preceded him, then that one had taken his or her secrets to the grave, or had locked them away in holocrons that had been destroyed or had yet to surface.
The question of whether he and Sidious had discovered something new or rediscovered something ancient was beside the point. All that mattered was that, almost a decade earlier, they had succeeded in willing the Force to shift and tip irrevocably to the dark side. Not a mere paradigm shift, but a tangible alteration that could be felt by anyone strong in the Force, and whether or not trained in the Sith or Jedi arts.
The shift had been the outcome of months of intense meditation, during which Plagueis and Sidious had sought to challenge the Force for sovereignty and suffuse the galaxy with the power of the dark side. Brazen and shameless, and at their own mortal peril, they had waged etheric war, anticipating that their own midi-chlorians, the Force’s proxy army, might marshal to boil their blood or stop the beating of their hearts. Risen out of themselves, discorporate and as a single entity, they had brought the power of their will to bear, asserting their sovereignty over the Force. No counterforce had risen against them. In what amounted to a state of rapture they knew that the Force had yielded, as if some deity had been tipped from its throne. On the fulcrum they had fashioned, the light side had dipped and the dark side had ascended.
On the same day they had allowed Venamis to die.
