by James Luceno
Plagueis found irony in the fact that Sidious had come to feel about him as he himself had felt about Tenebrous at the end of his long apprenticeship. Tenebrous trusted more in Bith science and computer projections than he had in the Sith arts … But Plagueis understood, too, that the time had come for him to rejoin the world and stand with Sidious to see this most important phase of the plan to fruition: Palpatine’s ascendancy to the chancellorship and the unprecedented appointment of Hego Damask as co-chancellor of the Republic. Ageless Hego Damask, as it would ultimately emerge. When that was behind them, they could turn to the bigger task of obliterating the Jedi Order.
Master Dooku’s dithering over leaving the Order came as no surprise. Yoda had taken Dooku from Serenno, but he had failed to take Serenno from Dooku. Twenty years earlier Plagueis had seen the stirrings of the dark side in him and had attempted since — whenever and wherever possible — to coax more of those latent powers to the surface. At Galidraan, in clandestine partnership with the local governor and members of the Death Watch to lure the Jedi into an ultimately hopeless confrontation with the True Mandalorians; at Yinchorr and Malastare; and most recently, through Sidious’s efforts, at Asmeru and Eriadu. Already strong in the Force, trained in combat, and a diplomat, as well, Dooku might have made for a powerful partner under different circumstances. Except for the fact that Dooku, unlike the Dathomiri Zabrak whom Sidious had trained, would never be content to serve as an apprentice or a mere assassin. He would demand to become a true Sith, and that would lead to trouble. A better course of action would be to allow Dooku to find his own way to the dark side — whatever version of it might be accessible to him through study of the Sith Holocrons the Jedi possessed. Better to have him leave the Order of his own accord and become the benevolent spokesperson for the disenfranchised, as one might expect from a being of high status. Yes, better to let him persuade worlds and systems to secede from the Republic and foment a civil war into which the Jedi could be drawn …
The sudden blare of klaxons put an abrupt end to his musings.
Time is short.
OneOne-FourDee returned, moving quickly for a droid. “Five battleships have been detected, Magister.”
“Ahead of schedule.”
“Perhaps your enemies received intelligence that their attack plan had been compromised.”
“A sound speculation, FourDee. Is the ship ready?”
“Standing by, Magister.”
After a final look around, Plagueis hurried out the gaping door that led to the courtyard, where the sleek starship designed by Rugess Nome and built by Raith Sienar was waiting. Styled loosely after a courier ship that had been commonplace during the ancient Sith Empire, the Infiltrator still looked as if it had flown out of the past. Just under thirty meters in length and shaped like a throwing dart, it had two short wings where fletching feathers might have been, jutting from a round command module and ending in curved radiator fins that enclosed the module parenthetically when deployed. But what made the ship unique was a stygium-crystal-powered cloaking array that occupied much of the long, tapered prow of the fuselage.
As Plagueis entered the cockpit, 11-4D abandoned the single pilot’s chair for one of the seats that lined the aft circumference of the module.
“Systems are enabled, Magister.”
Folding himself into the swivel chair, Plagueis secured the harness, clamped his hands on the yoke, and raised the ship, which spiraled as it climbed above the towering walls of the old fort before rocketing into Sojourn’s opaque sky, invisible to any scanners that might be aimed downside. Already the first energy beams from the enemy flotilla were streaking into the greel forests, hurling vegetation and igniting firestorms. Another extinction for some of the creatures that had been cloned exclusively for the moon, Plagueis thought. A second onslaught of laser beams struck the tower where he had passed so many hours in contemplation, toppling it into the courtyard. Outside the Infiltrator, the air was growing hot and jolting winds were being whipped up by what had been unleashed from above. Far to starboard, starlight glinted off an attack ship that was racing toward the surface.
Ground-based turbolaser batteries began to answer with reciprocating fire, making it appear as if the sky were at war with itself. At the edge of space, short-lived explosions blossomed, as the shields of targeted ships were overwhelmed. But others broke through the barrages, their weapons reducing swaths of forest to ash and blowing huge chunks of rock from the escarpment. The ground shook and great columns of smoke poured upward. One, then another gun emplacement exploded, taking with them an entire wall of the fort.
Plagueis studied the cockpit displays as the Infiltrator continued to gain elevation and velocity, racing through smoke and fleeing clouds.
“Rendezvous coordinates are already programmed into the navicomputer,” 11-4D said from behind him. “The comm frequency is also preset.”
Plagueis swung to the navicomputer as concussions rocked the ship. He had placed one hand on the device’s keyboard when the sky seemed to give birth to a sphere of blinding light. Following a moment of absolute stillness, a cascade of infernal energy descended on what remained of the fort and concentric rings of explosive power radiated outward, leveling everything within a twenty-kilometer radius from ground zero. The Infiltrator was lifted like a bird caught in a thermal, and for a moment all its systems failed.
Plagueis sat in enraged disbelief.
Somehow, Veruna and his cohorts — Gardulla, Black Sun, and the Bando Gora — had gotten their hands on a proscribed nuclear device. None of the Sun Guards could have survived the blast; but then they didn’t deserve to. Nuclear weapons were scarce, and the Echani had obviously neglected to check with the few black-market suppliers that had access to them.
A pillar of roiling fire and smoke was clawing into the sky, fanning out in the thinning atmosphere to become a mushroom-shaped cloud. The greel forests were blackened wastelands; the fort was slagged and turned to glass. Deeply moved, Plagueis realized that he hadn’t experienced such powerful emotions since he had bid good-bye to Mygeeto so many decades earlier and placed himself in the care of Darth Tenebrous.
Adhering to course, the Infiltrator rose out of the turmoil. Stars winked into visibility, and the fleet ship was suddenly free of the moon’s gravity and pulled into the powerful embrace of Sojourn’s parent. No sooner had it entered the planet’s night side than the comm board issued an urgent tone.
“Magister Damask, we find no trace of your ship on any of our scanners, but we trust that you’re out there somewhere.”
Plagueis disabled the ship’s cloaking device and swiveled to the board. “Star Jewel, this is Damask. Your scanners should be able to find us now.”
“Affirmative, Magister Damask. You are clear to proceed to Docking Bay Four.”
A space cruiser of gargantuan size and ostentatious design could be seen hanging in the middle distance. Shaped like an arrowhead, the vessel was heavily armed and large enough to accommodate half a dozen starfighters. While Plagueis was maneuvering toward it, the comm board’s enunciators were rattled by a resonant laugh.
“I hope to persuade you one day to share the secret of your invisible ship, Magister Damask.”
“I appreciate your punctuality, Jabba Desilijic Tiure. As I do the advance intelligence that allowed me to avoid being atomized.”
“Thus are lasting partnerships solidified, Magister. What is our destination?”
“Coruscant,” Plagueis said. “But I’ve one more favor to ask before we arrive.”
“Simply state it, and it will be done.”
“Then arrange for communications with Naboo. King Veruna needs to be informed of what he has brought down on himself and his confederates.”
Jabba guffawed again. “It will be my pleasure.”
27: CALIBRATIONS
Hego Damask didn’t simply keep a penthouse on Coruscant; he owned an entire building. While it wasn’t as grand as 500 Republica, Kaldani Spires was the Galactic Ce
nter’s most desired address outside the Senate District. Towering over Monument Plaza, the stately building was as fine an example of Hasennan Period architecture as could be found onworld, and from its uppermost suites residents could see from the peaks of the Manarai Mountains clear to the Western Sea — Coruscant’s only instances of naked rock and surface water. A neighborhood for neither politicians nor the newly arrived, the district catered to solid old-money citizenry: financiers, corporate chiefs, industrialists, and bankers.
Damask’s residence took up the whole of the Kaldani’s summit.
A pair of Sun Guards rode with Palpatine in the private turbolift, only to surrender him to another pair stationed in the penthouse’s light-filled atrium. But it was the droid 11-4D that escorted him into Damask’s study, which was darkened by tall, brocade curtains and filled with masterpieces of galactic art. The masked Muun himself rose from a plush armchair to greet Palpatine as he was shown into the room.
“Master,” Sidious said, interlocking his hands in front of him and bowing his head.
Plagueis lowered his head in a gesture of mutual respect. “Welcome, Darth Sidious. It’s good to see you.”
As the room was the opposite of the one he had often confined himself to on Sojourn, Plagueis no longer looked like the wide-eyed mystic he had seemed only months earlier. Except for having to wear the breathing device, he struck Palpatine as a slightly older version of the Muun who had visited him on Naboo so many decades before.
The two Sith moved to a sunken area of the room and sat across from each other. Plagueis filled two glasses with clear wine and passed one to his apprentice. He made the act of imbibing through his nasal passages seem almost routine.
“After Sojourn, I find it somewhat dislocating to be back in the greater world.”
“Master, I’m sorry I wasn’t the first to warn you of the attack,” Sidious said. “I didn’t think Veruna had the courage to carry out his veiled threats. Perhaps I nudged him too far.”
A long moment of silence passed between them.
“What you did and didn’t do is immaterial,” Plagueis said at last. “Coming when it did, at almost precisely the same time the members of the Trade Federation Directorate were meeting their fates, the attack was the work of the Force, substantiating our ambitions, especially.” He took more wine and set the glass down. “I never would have had the heart to destroy Sojourn, though it needed to be done; and so the Force saw to it. The incident reminds us of the need to be prepared for sudden eventualities, whether harmonious or inimical to our plans, and compliant to circumstance.”
“And now we are justified in striking back,” Sidious said.
“We no longer need to justify our actions to anyone. But bear in mind what I told you long ago: by killing one, we can frighten many.”
Sidious nodded. “We owe Jabba a great debt.”
“I spoke briefly with Veruna from the Hutt’s ship.”
Sidious grinned slightly. “I suspected as much when I learned just prior to the summit that he had abdicated, and that Padmé Naberri had been appointed Queen. He has apparently hidden himself away in Naboo’s Western Reaches.”
“That’s not hiding,” Plagueis said with a note of menace. “All went well on Eriadu?”
“Better than expected, what with the Jedi running in circles and convinced that Valorum was the target. I savored their dismayed incredulity on learning that the droids had emptied their weapons on the members of the directorate. In the end, the leaders of the Nebula Front died, as well, and our friend Wilhuff Tarkin is making matters difficult for Republic investigators. Soon the aurodium stolen from the Trade Federation freighter will be discovered to have been invested in Valorum Shipping and Transport, making it appear that the Supreme Chancellor’s push for taxation was motivated by greed and illegal enrichment. He is brought down. Even his power to deploy the Jedi or Judicials will be stripped from him.”
Plagueis’s eyes narrowed. “And Gunray?”
“Precisely where we want him: leader by default of the Trade Federation, and busy acquiring the droid weapons the Senate will sanction. Where the Neimoidians should be grateful to Senator Palpatine for proposing the summit, they are instead furious. Everything is in place for launching the blockade.”
“Almost everything,” Plagueis said. “First, there is the matter of our revenge.”
“Shall I task Maul to pay Veruna a visit?”
Plagueis shook his head. “I intend to see to him personally. Is the Zabrak — Maul, as you call him — capable of dealing with Alexi Garyn and his Vigos?”
“He will not fail us.”
Plagueis considered that for a moment, then said, “The Infiltrator sits under guard at West Championne Starport. Have Pestage transport the ship to the LiMerge Building, so that you can present it as a gift to your apprentice. I will provide you with information about Garyn’s current whereabouts.”
“That leaves only the Hutt and Bando Gora,” Sidious said.
“I have promised Gardulla to Jabba. As for the Bando Gora …” Plagueis rose from the chair, walked to the curtained windows, and peered outside. “There is a rumor worth pursuing that Master Dooku’s former apprentice, Komari Vosa, is not only alive but the cult’s newest leader, and eager to avenge herself on the Jedi Order for having abandoned her and her comrades on Baltizaar.”
“Vosa turning to the dark side,” Sidious said, as if thinking aloud. “Dooku trained her better than he knows.”
“Yes, but she is a fallen Jedi, not a Sith. We will exact revenge on the Bando Gora at another time.”
Sidious stood up and joined Plagueis at the parted curtains. “I will inform Viceroy Gunray to prepare his armed ships for relocation to the Naboo system.”
In a midlevel hangar in the LiMerge Building, Sidious watched Maul stow the last of his gear and hand-built contrivances aboard the Infiltrator, which, like the Zabrak’s speeder bike, now had a name: Scimitar. Closing a cargo hatch in the forward portion of the hull, Maul stepped back to admire the ship, then swung to Sidious and genuflected.
“I am not deserving of such a gift, Master.”
Sidious glowered. “If you feel that way, then prove your worth to yourself and me by succeeding in your mission.”
“I pledge as much.”
Sidious watched him carefully. “We need to dismantle the Black Sun criminal cartel. The Vigos had strong ties to some members of the Trade Federation Directorate, and they suspect there was foul play at Eriadu. Right now, the Neimoidians are in their sights, and we can’t risk having them interfere with our plans.”
He made no mention of Black Sun’s complicity in the attack on Sojourn.
Maul nodded. “I understand, Master.”
Sidious made a beckoning motion with his hands. “Rise and listen carefully, Darth Maul. Time doesn’t permit hunting down Alexi Garyn and his Vigos one by one. Therefore, make Boss Darnada your first victim. You will find the Dug at his deep-space reclamation station. Then jump your ship to Mon Calamari and kill the Vigo called Morn. By then, word of your actions will have reached Garyn, and he will likely summon the remaining seven Vigos to his fortress on Ralltiir. Narees, Mother Dean, Nep Chung, and the rest. You are to contact me when you have verified that they are all in one place.” He glanced at the Scimitar. “It will be an opportunity to put your probe droids to the test.”
A look of eagerness took shape on Maul’s fearsome face. Sidious walked to him and placed his hands atop Maul’s shoulders. “You will be facing many skilled opponents, my apprentice. Darnada’s Twi’lek bodyguard, Sinya; Garyn himself, who has some strength in the Force; and Garyn’s chief protector, Mighella, who is a Nightsister and will immediately identify you as a Nightbrother.”
Maul scowled. “A Nightsister is not a Sith.”
Sidious’s eyes narrowed. “As you well know. But as on Dorvalla, take care to leave no witnesses.”
Maul showed his sharpened teeth. “It shall be done. And Black Sun will cease to be an impedim
ent.”
Sidious nodded. “Then be on your way, Darth Maul. The dark side is with you.”
Maul bowed his head and hurried up the rear boarding ramp into the cockpit module. Sidious lingered to watch the ship rise and edge out of the hangar, becoming invisible as it flew over The Works. Through the dark side, he continued to track the Scimitar as it angled north toward the Jedi Temple rather than south, and away from the Senate District. Sidious recalled the voyages he had taken ten years earlier to watch Maul fight in gladiatorial matches on Orsis and nearby worlds. Driven to win against all odds, unaffected by pain, daring, and terrifying. An up-and-coming contender at ten years of age and a champion at twelve. Under the markings that masked his face, sleeved his arms, and twisted around his legs and torso, the scars of those battles to the death.
But this one will not be content until he has killed a Jedi Master, Sidious thought.
Assuming that pride didn’t defeat him first.
Leaving the hangar space, Sidious made his way to the holoprojector in the building’s only refurbished room. What would become of Maul once Palpatine and Damask assumed control of the Republic? he asked himself. As a secret weapon, he would continue to be useful, but could he ever be eased into public life? How would he react to learning that his Master answered to a Master?
With his feet planted on the transmission grid, Sidious sat in the chair that was positioned for the holoprojector’s cams, adjusted the controls built into one of the armrests, and raised the cowl of his cloak over his head. For twenty years he had enjoyed living a double life, but now he felt an urge to be known for who he was, and feared for how powerful he could be. He directed his thoughts forward in time, yearning for a clear vision of the future, but none came. Did the dark side blind even its most devoted advocates to what was looming on the horizon? Plagueis had said that they needed to be prepared for sudden eventualities. Was he withholding knowledge of events he knew were imminent?
