Authors: James Luceno
“Do you win?”
“Why else would I bother racing?” Climbing into the speeder, Palpatine centered himself at the controls.
“I have just the thing to adorn your rearview mirror,” Plagueis said. From his breast pocket he fished a coin of pure aurodium dangling from a length of chain, and dropped it into the palm of Palpatine’s hand. “It’s an antique.”
The young human appraised the gift. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s yours.”
Palpatine showed him a questioning look.
“Who knows, perhaps you’ll go into banking one day,” Plagueis said.
Palpatine laughed in a relaxed way. “Unlikely, Magister Damask.”
“I suppose there are better ways to earn credits.”
Palpatine shook his head. “Credits don’t interest me.”
“I’m beginning to wonder just what does.”
Palpatine bit back whatever he was about to say.
“Palpatine, I wonder how you would feel about working with us—Damask Holdings, I mean.”
Palpatine’s thick eyebrows beetled. “In what capacity?”
“To be perfectly blunt, as a kind of spy.” He went on before Palpatine could speak. “I won’t say that you and I want the same things for Naboo, because clearly—and notwithstanding your feelings about the architecture—you hold your world dear. My group, however, is less interested in Naboo’s government than it is in Naboo’s plasma and what it will fetch on the open market.”
Palpatine looked as if the plain truth was something new to him. “If you had phrased that any differently, I would have rejected your offer out of hand.”
“Then you accept? You’re willing to update us regarding whatever political machinations your father’s group may have in the works?”
“Only if I can report directly to you.”
Plagueis tried once more to see him in the Force. “Is that your wish?”
Palpatine returned a sober nod. “It is.”
“Then by all means, you’ll report exclusively to me,” Plagueis said.
“I’ll see to it that the necessary arrangements are made.” He stepped away from the speeder as Palpatine powered it up.
Palpatine fell silent for a moment. “I could take you for a ride tomorrow,” he said at last, above the whine of the engine. “If you have time, I mean. Show you some more of Theed and the outskirts.”
“If I have your word you won’t go too fast.”
Palpatine smiled wickedly. “Only fast enough to keep it interesting.”
10: THE CYCLE OF VIOLENCE
Flying a meter above the ground, Palpatine’s agile speeder skimmed over the plains below Theed plateau, leaving long curving trails in the tall grasses. The day was bright and clear, the warm air abuzz with insects and strewn with pollen.
“Exhilarating,” Plagueis said from the passenger-side bucket seat when Palpatine’s foot had eased off the accelerator.
“Maybe I’ll become a professional racer.”
“The Naboo might expect more of the eldest son of House Palpatine.”
“I ignore the expectations of others,” Palpatine said without looking at him.
“Was the speeder a gift from your father?”
Palpatine glanced at him. “A bribe—but one I accepted.”
“Does he approve of your racing?”
Palpatine made a harsh sound. “My father hasn’t ridden with me for years.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
“It has nothing to do with my talents.” Palpatine turned slightly in the driver’s seat. “When I was younger I was responsible for the deaths of two pedestrians. At the time, my father threatened never to allow me to fly, but he eventually relented.”
“What made him change his mind?”
Palpatine swung forward. “I wore him down.”
“I’m sorry,” Plagueis said. “I didn’t know.”
Although, in fact, he did know. With help from 11-4D he had learned that Palpatine’s troubled past had seen him bounced from one private school to the next, following incidents of petty crime and offenses that would have landed a commoner in a correctional facility. Time and again his father, who shared with his son a penchant for violence, had used his influence to rescue Palpatine and avoid the specter of family scandals. To Plagueis, however, the youth’s transgressions were only further indication of his exceptionality. Here was a youth who had already risen above common morality and had judged himself unique enough to create an individual code of ethics.
Palpatine pointed to the distant tree line. “There are some ancient ruins in there, but that’s Gungan territory.”
“Have you had any dealings with them?”
“Personally, no. But I’ve seen the ones that come into Moenia to trade for goods.”
“What are your thoughts about them?”
“Aside from the fact that they are long-eared, slimy-tongued primitives?”
“Aside from that, yes.”
Palpatine shrugged. “I don’t mind them, so long as they keep to their submerged cities and waterways.”
“Not get in the way.”
“Exactly. Humans deserve to have the upper hand here.”
Plagueis could not restrain a smile. “There are many worlds in the galaxy where the matter of who has the upper hand, as it were, is in dispute.”
“That’s because most beings are afraid to take charge. Think what the Republic Senate might accomplish under the leadership of a strong being.”
“I have given thought to that, Palpatine.”
“What does the Senate do in response to each and every crisis? It dispatches the Jedi to restore order, and moves on without addressing the roots of the problem.”
Plagueis found the boy’s youthful ignorance entertaining. “The Jedi could rule the Republic if they wished,” he said after a moment. “I suppose we should be grateful that the Order is dedicated to peace.”
Palpatine shook his head. “I don’t view it like that. I think that the
Jedi have dedicated themselves to limiting change. They wait for the Senate to tell them when and where to intervene, and what to fix, when in fact they could use the Force to impose their will on the entire galaxy, if they wanted. I’d have more respect for them if they did.”
“Do you grant your father respect when he attempts to impose his will on you?”
Palpatine’s grip on the steering yoke tightened. “That’s different. The reason I don’t respect him is because he’s not half as intelligent as he thinks he is. If he could admit to his weaknesses, I could at least pity him.”
Bringing the speeder to a sudden halt, he turned toward Plagueis once more, his face flushed with anger. Between them, dangling from the rearview mirror, was the coin Plagueis had given him.
Before long, I will own this human
, Plagueis told himself.
“House Palpatine is wealthy,” the youth went on, “but not nearly as wealthy as some of the other houses, and not nearly as influential with the King and the electorate, despite my father’s attempts to take a leadership position with the royals. He lacks the political acumen needed to elevate our House to a position of true entitlement, and along with it the awareness to recognize that the time has come for Naboo to exploit its matchless resources and join the modern galaxy. Instead, he and his cronies, in complete and utter political ineptitude, want to keep us caged in the past.”
“Does your mother share his views?”
Palpatine forced a laugh. “Only because she espouses no views of her own; only because he has made her subservient to him—as he has my well-behaved brothers and sisters, who treat me like an interloper and yet, to my father, represent all I can never be.”
Plagueis considered the remarks in silence. “And yet you honor your House by going by its name.”
Palpatine’s expression softened. “For a time I thought about adopting the name of our distaff line. I haven’t rejected the dynasty I was born into. I’ve rejected the name I was
given
. But not for the grandiose reasons some think. Just the opposite, actually. I’m certain that you, of all beings, understand as much.”
There it was again, Plagueis thought: the deceptive cadence; the use of flattery, charm, and self-effacement as if rapier feints in a duel. The
need to be seen as guileless, unassuming, empathetic. A youth with no desire to enter politics, and yet
born
for it.
Tenebrous had told him from the start that the Republic, with help from the Sith, would continue to descend into corruption and disorder, and that a time would come when it would have to rely on the strengths of an enlightened leader, capable of saving the lesser masses from being ruled by their unruly passions, jealousies, and desires. In the face of a common enemy, real or manufactured, they would set aside all their differences and embrace the leadership of anyone who promised a brighter future. Could this Palpatine, with Plagueis’s help, be the one to bring about such a transformation?
Again he tried to see deeper into Palpatine, but without success. The psychic walls the youth had raised were impenetrable, which made the young human something rare indeed. Had Palpatine somehow learned to corral the Force within himself, as Plagueis had concealed his own powers as a youth?
“Of course I understand,” he said finally.
“But … when you were young, did you question your motivations, especially when they ran counter to everyone else’s?”
Plagueis held his challenging gaze. “I never asked why this or why that, what if this or what if that. I simply responded to my own determination.”
Palpatine sat back in the speeder seat as if a great weight had been lifted from him.
“Some of us are required to do what others cannot,” Plagueis added in a conspiratorial way.
Without a word, Palpatine nodded.
Plagueis had no need to delve any further into whatever traumas had given rise to Palpatine’s cunning, secretive nature. He simply needed to know:
Does this young human have the Force
?
Two standard days later, on Malastare—a world of varied terrain that occupied a prime position on the Hydian Way—even the deafening clatter and nauseating odor of speeding Podracers wasn’t enough to distract Plagueis from thinking about Palpatine. Damask Holdings had requested a meeting with Senator Pax Teem, and the leader of the Gran
Protectorate had provided the Muuns with box seats for the Phoebos Memorial Run. They had arrived directly from Naboo in the expectation of discussing business matters, but the Gran, Dugs, Xi Charrians, and nearly everyone else in the city of Pixelito were more interested in sport and betting.
“Have you picked a winner, Magister?” Pax Teem asked after two Podracers ripped past the viewing stands.
Lost in his thoughts about Naboo, Plagueis said, “I believe I have.”
His conversations with Palpatine seemed to have opened some sort of emotional floodgates in the human. The Muuns had scarcely left Naboo behind when the first of several holocommuniqués was received from Palpatine, regarding the royals’ latest plans for undermining Bon Tapalo’s bid for the monarchy. Plagueis had listened attentively, but, in fact, Palpatine had precious little to offer. Since the release of the information about the royals’ actions during the Gungan conflict, Palpatine’s father had been conducting his meetings behind closed doors at the family estate, and had forbidden his son from so much as discussing the coming election. Tapalo’s campaign, by contrast, was on the upswing, as a result of having announced a pending deal with the InterGalactic Banking Clan. The urgency of Palpatine’s transmissions suggested that he had formed an attachment to Plagueis and was reaching out to him not only as a secret employer but also as a potential adviser. In Hego Damask, Palpatine saw the wealth and power he had long sought for House Palpatine. Confident that the young human would continue to be useful long after Damask Holdings’ plans for Naboo had been realized, Plagueis did nothing to discourage the attachment.
“Why is it that we never see humans competing in the races?” he asked Teem after a moment.
The Gran waved his six-fingered hand in dismissal. “They haven’t the talent for it. The favorite to win today is the Dug at the controls of the blue racer.”
Plagueis tracked the Podracer for a moment. In the stands below him, thousands of Dugs—standing on all four appendages, on hind legs, or supported on arms only—were barking encouragement.
Plagueis found Malastare’s high gravity oppressive, and the Gran more so. They had arrived on the planet a thousand years earlier as
colonists, and had proceeded to beat the native Dugs into submission. The protectorate had since grown to overshadow the Gran homeworld, Kinyen, and was a powerful force within the Republic Senate, with wide-ranging influence in the Mid and Outer Rims.
Seated alongside Plagueis, Larsh Hill leaned forward to address Pax Teem. “Perhaps Gardulla will be able to entice humans to pilot Podracers in the course she is refurbishing on Tatooine.”
Teem honked in irritation. “So it’s true: you support the Hutt.”
“It’s simply business,” Hill said.
But Teem was not appeased. “Is this the purpose of your visit—to reopen wounds that have not yet healed?”
“Yes,” Plagueis said flatly.
Teem’s trio of eyestalks swung to him. “I don’t—”
“Don’t compound the offense,” Hill interrupted.
Teem feigned incomprehension.
“From whom did you learn of our interests on Naboo?” Plagueis asked.
The Gran looked to his comrades, but found no support in their abrupt silence.
“From whom?” Plagueis repeated.
A low of resignation escaped Teem. “We were approached by Subtext Mining, following the unexplained disappearance of some of its members—the ones I encountered on Sojourn, I suspect.”
“They were in fine health when they left the Gathering,” Hill said.
Teem nodded. “I’m certain they were.”
“Why did Subtext approach you?” Plagueis said.
Teem hesitated, then said, “To inform us that you are involved in a deal for the plasma.”
“Trusting that you would try to subvert our efforts by making them public,” Hill said.
The Gran snorted. “First you strike a deal with Gardulla that favors Tatooine over Malastare, and now Naboo’s plasma captures your attention, despite your offer to increase the cost of Malastare’s energy exports. So why shouldn’t we have alerted your opponents on Naboo, when you would have done the same?”