James Luceno - Darth Plagueis

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.