James Luceno - Darth Plagueis

“As are we,” Damask said, motioning to Hill and the rest.

“You’ve been traveling, Magister?”

“A business trip, Chairman.”

“Of course.” It was Tonith’s turn to show a weak smile. “But in that case perhaps you haven’t heard that the Senate is on the verge of creating additional free-trade zones in the Outer Rim Territories. Despite what I understand were considerable efforts on your part to the contrary, the shipping cartels face the danger of being broken, and even if not, will certainly have to deal with fierce competition from start-up companies. Both Core and Outer Rim worlds should benefit greatly from the arrangement, wouldn’t you agree?” Damask inclined his head in a bow of acknowledgment. “I hadn’t heard, Magister. Whom can we thank for swaying the liberals to adopt the amendment?” “Among others, the Jedi Order lobbied successfully.”

“Then it must be for the best.”

“One would think,” Tonith said slowly. “Save for the fact that, in exchange, the Trade Federation will now enjoy full voting privileges in the Senate.” “Ah, well. Appeasements of one sort or another always figure into Senate affairs.” Tonith leaned slightly toward Damask. “Thank you, however, for suggesting that we invest in Outer Rim and trans-Perlemian shipping. The results provided a windfall.” “Where and when I can be of service, Chairman.”

Tonith straightened. “Your clan father would be proud.”

Damask looked Tonith in the eye. “I take that as a compliment.”

“How else would I mean it, Magister?”

When the Banking Clan members had moved off and Damask’s group was back in motion, Damask glanced at Hill. “Someday we will topple the Toniths from their lofty perch.” Hill smiled with his eyes. “I hope I’m alive to see that day. And just so you know, Hego, your father would be proud. Chairman Tonith’s sarcasm notwithstanding.” “You would know better than most.”

Having arrived at the skyhook turbolifts, Hill was motioning everyone but himself and Damask into a separate lift when Damask said, “The droid will ride with us.” Hill appraised 11-4D as the three of them entered the turbolift. “A new acquisition?” “A door prize of sorts,” Damask said.

Hill didn’t pursue it. “You’ll be going to your residence or to Aborah?” “Directly to the island. The droid will accompany me.”

“I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

Damask lowered his voice to ask, “Are we secure in here?”

“Completely.”

Damask turned to face the taller, elder Muun. “Rugess Nome is dead.” “The Bith?” Hill said in astonishment. “How? Where?”

“Of no relevance,” Damask said, remembering. “Eventually Nome’s estate will pass to us, but that won’t be for some time to come, since it’s unlikely that his body will ever be found.” Hill didn’t bother asking for details. “We’ll allow a standard year to pass. Then we’ll petition the probate courts to render a decision — at the very least for whatever assets are contractually ours. You are the executor, in any case, are you not?” Damask nodded. “Ultimately we’ll be liquidating most of the estate. But there are several … antiques of a curious sort I plan to retain. I’ll prepare an inventory. In the meantime I want you to familiarize yourself with a world called Bal’demnic. Once you have, you’re to acquire mining rights for the entire northeast peninsula of the principal landmass. Purchase as much property as you can, from the shoreline to the central highlands. I’ll provide you with specific coordinates.” Uncertainty tugged at Hill’s strong features. “Are we venturing into the mining business now?” “When the time is right. Use intermediaries who can’t be traced to us. I suspect that you will have to go all the way to the top to secure what we need. The indigenes will be troublesome to negotiate with, but I’m confident they can be persuaded. Bargain like you mean it, but in the end spare no expense.” “Bal’demnic is that important?”

“A hunch,” Damask said.

Descending rapidly, the skyhook turbolift pierced layers of pure white clouds, revealing a curved panorama of aquamarine ocean, pale brown plains, and evergreen forest. And directly below, the view that was said to take one’s breath away: the city of Harnaidan, studded with Neo-Classical structures as towering as the volcanic spires that ringed it, and home to fifty million Muuns, living in an urbanscape that was an orderly masterpiece of art and design. To some, it was the antithesis of most planetary capitals: the anti-Coruscant; the anti-Denon.

“What can we expect at the Gathering?” Damask asked, turning away from the view.

“Gardulla has requested an audience.”

“I’m not in the habit of sitting down with Hutts.”

“She asks your help in mediating a dispute.”

“With whom?”

“The Desilijic clan.”

Damask nodded knowingly. “This has been brewing for some time. What else?” “Representatives from Yinchorr will be there.”

“Good. Holotransmissions have their limitations.”

“Members of the Trade Federation and the Gran Protectorate will also be attending.” Damask snorted. “There’s no pleasing any of them.” He grew pensive, then said: “There’s another small matter we need to settle. Extend a personal invitation to the owners of Subtext Mining.” Hill rubbed his whiskered chin. “I can’t recall having engaged in dealings with them. Does this have anything to do with Bal’demnic?” Damask ignored the question. “For a time they advised Nome. Make certain they understand that we operate in complete confidentiality.” “If the Bith partnered with them, they must come highly recommended.” “One would think.” Damask turned his back to Hill to take in the view once more. “But, in fact, I don’t see much future for them.” Unlike so many worlds that had been surveyed and settled by species from the Core, Muunilinst had given rise to its own brand of sentients. Farmers and fisherfolk, the ancient Muuns hadn’t known how favored their planet was until interstellar travel had become commonplace, and precious metals the backbone of the galactic economy. Had those early millennia of expansion not been a time of peace, the Muuns might have lost what they had to military might; but as it happened they had resisted all attempts at exploitation and become masters of their fate. Still, what was an economic blessing eventually became a burden. Once the Muuns understood the value of what they had previously taken for granted, they held on to their riches with a ferocious tenacity, and developed an almost agoraphobic attachment to their homeworld.

In the midst of Muunilinst’s shallow oceans, the same volcanic activity that had fertilized the vast plains belched new seabed and precious metals enough to fuel the growth of empires. Mountains heaped up through vents in the planetary crust were found to be repositories of extraordinary wealth. Lapped by warm waters teeming with shellfish, tubeworms, and bioluminescent flora, such “smokers,” as they were known, became both the source and the financial vaults of Muunilinst’s most powerful and prosperous clans.

More remote than some, Aborah, which had been the province of the Damask clan for several generations, was otherwise typical of the dormant smokers whose thickly forested conical peaks poked from the calm waters of the Western Sea. A maze of interconnected lava tubes ran deep into the mountain island; waterfalls plunged from the sheer heights; and incense trees scented the salty air of the lowland valleys. Conveyed by speeder to Aborah’s north tower complex, Plagueis escorted 11-4D on a tour of the corridors and caverns that constituted his place of sacrosanct solitude.