James Luceno - Darth Plagueis

Palpatine looked at him. “On Coruscant?”

“Here, at Tannik.” He pointed to a nearby dock, where an energetic dark-haired girl was directing an antigrav pallet of foodstuffs into the bay of a waiting freighter. Catching sight of her father, Padmé waved.

“Who is the young man with her?” Palpatine asked.

“Ian Lago,” Jobal said.

Palpatine sharpened his vision. “The son of King Veruna’s counselor?”

Jobal nodded. “He’s become a bit lovesick.”

“And Padmé with him?”

“We hope not,” Ruwee said. “Ian’s a nice boy, but … Well, let’s just say that Kun Lago would not be happy to learn that his son has been fraternizing with the enemy, so to speak.”

Realizing that young Ian was eyeing him with sudden interest, Palpatine returned the look for a moment, then said, “This brings me directly to the point of my visit. As you’re no doubt aware, our King has instructed me to support the Trade Federation on the issue of taxation of the free-trade zones.”

“Of course he would,” Ruwee said with clear disdain. “How otherwise would Veruna continue to line the pockets of his robes with kickbacks.”

Palpatine nodded. “You and I and some of the nobles know as much. But now may be the time to let the rest of Naboo in on his secrets.”

Jobal’s expression soured. “If you’re talking about challenging him in the coming election, you’re facing a lost cause.”

“I beg to disagree, madame,” Palpatine said. “With discretion I have already approached several members of the electorate, and they concur that Veruna can be defeated by the right candidate.”

When he cut his gaze to Padmé, Ruwee’s mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious.”

“But I am, Ruwee. A member of the Legislative Youth Program at eight years of age; a full Apprentice Legislator at eleven. Her refugee work on Shadda-Bi-Boran. Plus, she enjoys more popular support in Theed than any governor has enjoyed in generations.”

Jobal blinked and shook her head in disbelief. “Palpatine, she has only just turned thirteen!”

Palpatine spread his hands. “Naboo has elected younger Queens, m’lady. And hers could be a reign that will last fifty years.” He refused to yield to Ruwee or Jobal. “The constitution has a provision that would allow the monarchy to become hereditary for a worthy dynasty. And what more worthy family is there than the Naberries?”

Husband and wife traded looks. “That’s very flattering, Senator—” Jobal started to say when Palpatine cut her off.

“The Naboo are exasperated with monarchs like Tapalo and Veruna. Padmé would allow Naboo to reinvent itself.”

Ruwee mulled it over momentarily. “Even if Padmé were to entertain the idea, I’m not sure she could be persuaded to support taxation of the trade zones, knowing what that might mean for Naboo and other outlying worlds.”

“She wouldn’t have to take a stand,” Palpatine countered. “She need only campaign against corruption and secret deals, and the embarrassing position in which Veruna has placed Naboo.”

Jobal’s eyes narrowed in uncertainly. “At the risk of touching on a sore point, Senator, you helped put Veruna on the throne and have been his advocate ever since.”

Palpatine shook his head. “Never an advocate. I have always considered myself to be a counterbalance, and in the past few years we’ve found ourselves on opposite sides of almost every issue, including the library he built and the credits he lavished on creating a space force for Naboo.” He fell silent for a moment, then said, “Trust me, Veruna can be defeated.”

Again, Ruwee and Naberrie exchanged worried looks. “We’re provincial people, Palpatine,” Ruwee said at last. “The world of politics … galactic politics, no less …”

Palpatine compressed his lips. “I understand. But what compelled the two of you to abandon the mountains for Theed, if not for Padmé and Sola, and the opportunities that might be available to them?”

Palpatine held Ruwee’s pensive gaze. He is beginning to waver .

“I wouldn’t want to put Padmé through this only to see her lose, Palpatine.”

Palpatine beamed. “I will work with you to see that that doesn’t happen. I don’t wish to speak out of turn, but I can almost guarantee the support of the Supreme Chancellor, as well.”

“Valorum knows of Padmé?” Jobal asked in delighted surprise.

“Of course he does.” Palpatine paused. “Faced with Padmé as competition, perhaps Veruna will see the light and abdicate.”

Jobal laughed, then showed Palpatine a serious look. “You have come a long way, Senator.”

On a clear day, looking northwest across The Works from a debris-strewn room in the circular crown of the LiMerge Building, Maul could just see the elegant centermost spire of the Jedi Temple, poking above the horizon. With his Master en route to Eriadu to attend a trade summit Sidious himself had proposed, the Zabrak had made a habit of climbing to the crown at least once a day and, with electrobinoculars in hand, gazing at the distant spire in the hope of catching sight of a Jedi.

But that hadn’t happened.

If any Jedi were present, they would be sitting in contemplation, as Maul knew he should be doing, as well. Or if not meditating, then completing work on the graciously curved speeder bike he had named Bloodfin or the droid called C-P3X, or perfecting his skill at using the wrist-mounted projectile launcher known as the lanvarok. Devoting himself to those tasks would have met with more approval from Darth Sidious than Maul’s staring at the Temple’s fin-ornamented pinnacle and dreaming of the day he could pit himself against a Jedi Master. But ever since his return from Dorvalla several standard weeks earlier, he had been too restless to sit cross-legged on the floor, immersed in the flow of the dark side, or to pore over the probe droid schematics Darth Sidious had furnished before he’d left.

When Maul reflected on the time he had spent on Dorvalla, his thoughts weren’t focused on the assassinations he had carried out. He had murdered many in his short life, and there was nothing about the deaths of Patch Bruit, Caba’Zan, and the others involved in the business of mining lommite ore that distinguished them from previous killings. In fact, the miners’ carelessness should have condemned them to lingering deaths rather than the quick ends Maul had dispensed. What he remembered instead was the feeling of participation the mission had afforded. Not only had he been able to draw on his talents for stealth, tracking, and combat, but he had used them in a manner that furthered the Sith Grand Plan, as hadn’t been the case during his years of training on Orsis, or during the forays Darth Sidious had allowed him to make to other worlds. On his return to Coruscant, the Dark Lord had praised him, which, Maul supposed, should have been reward enough. And might have been, had the mission led to another. But Darth Sidious had excluded him from participating in the Eriadu operation, and had been vague about future plans.

A direct outcome of what Maul had accomplished on Dorvalla, Lommite Limited and InterGalactic Ore had merged and been taken over by the Trade Federation, which in turn had resulted in Nute Gunray’s promotion to the company’s seven-member directorate. In further conversations with the viceroy, Darth Sidious had demanded that the Neimoidians willingly sacrifice one of their Lucrehulk freighters, along with a shipment of aurodium ingots, as a means of funding an Outer Rim insurgent group known as the Nebula Front. Maul had been nonplussed by his Master’s decision to reveal himself to the group’s leader, as Darth Sidious had done in his initial communication with Gunray; then dismayed to learn that the leader — a human named Havac — had betrayed Darth Sidious by attempting to assassinate Supreme Chancellor Valorum on Coruscant. The realization that his Master could be deceived, that he wasn’t infallible, had had a curious effect on Maul. It had caused him unease , a sudden concern for his Master’s safety that had intruded on his ability to still his mind and find reassurance in the dark side. It was not fear — for fear was something alien to Maul’s makeup — but a troublesome disquiet. Disquiet for the being he had once tried to kill, and was perhaps expected to kill . All these weeks later he would still sometimes spend hours wandering through the LiMerge Building like a house pet picking up on the scent of its owner …