Darth Plagueis (30 page)

The funeral service was held at Naboo’s embassy, which was located below and to the west of Monument Plaza and the Senate. Dressed in a high-collared cape and purple robes, Palpatine arrived at the ornate monad in the company of Kinman Doriana, Sate Pestage, and Janus Greejatus, who had been dispatched to Coruscant by Tapalo, and whom Palpatine suspected had some strength in the Force. Kinman and Sate had forged an instant bond. The youthful Doriana was made for a world like Coruscant, and he couldn’t have asked for a better guide to the galactic capital’s titillating underbelly than Pestage, who seemed to know every nook and cranny of the place.

Ronhar Kim was among several dozen guests who were attending the service. Palpatine waited until the Jedi was alone in the viewing room before approaching him.

In concealing yourself, you will not be able to rely on your dark gifts
, Plagueis said.
Instead you must be yourself, submerged in the unified pattern to which the Jedi are attuned; visible in the Force, but not as a Sith. Since you cannot allow yourself to be seen, you must make certain that you are taken for granted. Disguised in the profane; camouflaged in the routine—in those same realms from which you can attack without warning when necessary
.

A tall, muscular young man attired in black robes, Ronhar had thick black hair pulled into a bun behind, and with long strands in front dangling from temples to chin. In him, Palpatine could see Vidar, whose body was lying in state, supine on a massive rectangular stone bier. A simple blanket covered the corpse from shoulders to knees, and on the chest sat a shallow metallic bowel containing purple flowers and a lighted candle meant to symbolize the Livet Tower’s Eternal Flame. Janus Greejatus would transport the cremation ashes to Naboo, where they would be scattered in the Solleu River.

“Jedi Ronhar Kim,” Palpatine said as he entered the room, “please forgive the intrusion, but I wanted to offer my condolences in person.”

Roused from his thoughts, Ronhar whirled on him, almost in defense, and scanned him head-to-toe. “Who are you?”

“Palpatine,” he said. “I’ve been appointed to succeed Vidar Kim as Senator of Naboo. I knew your father well.”

Ronhar’s vigilance eased. “Forgive me for not knowing more about Naboo, Senator … Palpatine. But in fact, until several weeks ago I wasn’t aware that Vidar Kim was my biological father, or even that Naboo was my homeworld.”

Palpatine feigned understanding. “No need to apologize. I imagine that the Force is, in some sense, its own domain.”

Ronhar nodded. “I scarcely knew the man. Were it not for the fact that he was a Republic Senator, the Jedi Council would not have granted dispensation for me to meet with him.”

Palpatine allowed himself to stretch out with the Force, but only for a moment, and chiefly to gauge the Jedi’s reaction, which proved to be indiscernible. “Excuse me for asking, but why then did you choose to attend the service?”

Ronhar grew pensive. “No doubt you know about the tragedy that claimed the lives of his wife and sons.”

“I do.”

“Vidar Kim contacted me to ask if I would consider renouncing my pledge to the Jedi, in order to become the bearer of the family name.”

Palpatine moved closer to him and added compassion to his voice. “He told me, Ronhar. Does your presence here reflect doubt as to your obligations?”

“No,” the Jedi said, perhaps more firmly than he intended. “I’m only here out of respect for the man. As you may also know, he died at the hands of an assassin while in my company.” Ronhar’s voice betrayed disappointment rather than anger. “If I had acted sooner, he would be alive, and at present I can’t be certain that the assassin’s blaster bolts weren’t meant for me, rather than Vidar Kim.”

“Who in their right mind would target a Jedi Knight?”

The Jedi sniffed and narrowed his dark eyes. “The Jedi do not lack for enemies, Senator. Doling out justice and ensuring the peace doesn’t sit well with some beings.”

“The world of politics is no safer, Ronhar. Not in this era, with so many in need. Thank the Force we have the Jedi.”

“I wonder,” Kim said.

Palpatine regarded him with interest. The Jedi was less interested in solving the murder of Vidar than he was in agonizing over his failure to prevent it. “You wonder about what, Ronhar?”

“What my life might have been had I not become a Jedi.”

Palpatine adopted a look of shock. “The choice was not yours to make. You have the Force. Your destiny was a foregone conclusion.”

Ronhar mulled it over. “And if Vidar Kim had elected not to surrender me to the Order?”

“A line of thought impossible to follow to any conclusion,” Palpatine said.

The Jedi looked at him and squared his shoulders. “There are many forks in the path, Senator. Had I remained on Naboo I might have followed in Vidar Kim’s footsteps and entered politics. Perhaps it’s not too late.”

Palpatine showed him a tolerant smile and came alongside him, confident now that his true nature was beyond detection. “I have to admit that the notion of a politician with Jedi values is not without its appeal. In fact, the Republic was once overseen by Jedi chancellors only. But I’m afraid you’re something of an anachronism, Ronhar. The galaxy appears
to have rejected the idea of enlightened leadership. The best politician presently is merely exceptional, where every Jedi is extraordinary.”

Ronhar laughed shortly. “More and more, Senator Palpatine, you begin to sound like my former Master.”

“Would that I had such talents,” Palpatine said, making light of it. “But I do have a proposition, Ronhar. Not only am I new to the Senate, I’m new to Coruscant. And it would be good to have someone to count on as a friend. So what would you say to an alliance between a politician and a Jedi? Through me you could gain insight into the workings of the Republic, and through you I might better understand the Jedi, in their roles as peacekeepers.”

Ronhar inclined his head in a bow. “I respect Vidar Kim all the more for bringing us together. May the Force be with you, Senator Palpatine.”

On Serenno, remote from the Core along the Hydian Way, a female servant of Count Vemec, costumed in garb from an era long past, escorted the quartet of human Jedi into the castle’s expensively modernized conference room. First to be introduced to those assembled—including dignitaries and politicians representing Serenno and nearby Celanon, and the Muun core of Damask Holdings—was Jedi Master and Council member Jocasta Nu, a pleasant-looking woman with straight hair, pronounced cheekbones, and brilliant blue eyes. Accompanying her were distinguished Jedi Masters Dooku and Sifo-Dyas, and a tall, powerfully built Jedi Knight named Qui-Gon Jinn, who remained standing while the rest took their designated seats at the circular table. The three men carried themselves with palpable self-assurance, and affected beards of different styles—Dooku’s terminated in a stylish point; Sifo-Dyas’s followed his strong jawline; Qui-Gon’s was long and thick.

Plagueis, who rarely missed an opportunity to interact with Jedi, had planned to leave the business on Serenno to Larsh Hill and the others—until learning that Dooku would be present.

Fifty or so standard years old, Dooku was Serenno’s native son, hailing from a noble lineage analogous to the Naboo Palpatines. Had he not been born strong in the Force, he would have been a Count, in the same way that Palpatine would have been a royal. But on the few occasions
Plagueis had encountered Dooku, he had sensed something in him that warranted further investigation. Dooku was said to be one of the Order’s finest lightsaber masters, and he had earned a reputation as a skilled diplomat, as well; but his passion and restlessness were what had captured Plagueis’s attention. For all his decades in the Order, he seemed to have kept one foot anchored in the mundane. In place of the homespun brown robes worn by most Jedi—like the hale Qui-Gon Jinn—Dooku favored cloaks and robes more appropriate to a night at the opera on Coruscant. In addition, he was a candid critic of Supreme Chancellor Darus and the corrupt practices of the Senate.

Most important, perhaps, Dooku was linked to the Sith’s Grand Plan in ways that went beyond circumstantial. Some twenty years earlier, in a scheme engineered by Tenebrous to replace human Senator Blix Annon with a young upstart named Eero Iridian, Dooku and his then-Padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn, were caught up in the events and had managed to send some of the principal players to prison. Dooku had also unwittingly sabotaged several of Tenebrous’s plans to foster intersystem dissent in the Expansion Region.

In the aftermath of the near-disastrous assassination of Vidar Kim, Plagueis’s interest in Dooku had assumed a new urgency. He felt certain that Sidious would evolve into a commanding Sith, but just now the young Naboo was drunk with power and prone to make mistakes. When the dark recognized one as a true ally, a novice could lose his or her way, as had almost happened to Plagueis following the murder of Kerred Santhe. Bane-adoring Sith Masters like Tenebrous might have used the meeting on Serenno as a means of threatening their apprentices with replacement. Plagueis, however, had no such intention, which was why he hadn’t mentioned to Sidious that Jedi would be attending the meeting. Even so, he found himself wondering whether a dissatisfied Jedi like Dooku could be insurance against a reversal of fortune—some unexpected event that would rob him of Sidious—or perhaps turned to the dark without formal enlistment, and manipulated into instigating a schism in the Order.

As he had told Sidious, even a trained Jedi could succumb to the lure of the dark side on his or her own. One hundred thirty years earlier, on a former Sith world in the Cularin system, a Padawan named Kibh Jeen had been so strongly affected by the lingering power in a fortress
on Almas that he submitted himself to the dark side and initiated a systemwide conflict. Perhaps, under Plagueis’s influence, Master Dooku could be inspired to do something similar. The Jedi would bear closer observation.

One of Celanon’s legal advocates was the first to speak when everyone had been seated.

“Celanon protests the presence of Jedi Master Dooku at this meeting, since it has come to our attention that he is Serennian by birth.”

Serenno’s arrogant Count Vemec started to respond when Dooku cut him off, addressing himself to the litigator. “If you had investigated further, you would also know that I renounced all ties to my family and Serenno on being accepted into the Jedi Order.” He turned his penetrating gaze on Celanon’s ambassador. “I assure you that I will be as impartial as any one of you.”

Celanon’s ambassador—a large, bumptious human—cleared his throat in a meaningful way. “Jedi Master Dooku’s reputation for even-handedness precedes him. We trust that he will be as fair in this matter as he is known to have been elsewhere.”

“With that issue behind us,” Vemec said, “I call for an official start to these proceedings.”

The issue at hand involved the planned construction of an Aqualish-manufactured hyperwave repeater in Celanon space that would expand the reach of the HoloNet well into the Corporate Sector—a vast region of the Tingel Arm that had become an economic playground for the Banking Clan and the Corporate Alliance, through lucrative deals brokered by Damask Holdings. In compensation for the fact that placement of the repeater would necessitate changes in hyperspace trade routes, Celanon had announced that ships entering Celanon space from the systems of the upper Hydian would be required to pay substantial transit taxes. Plagueis had limited interest in the debate. Secretly he hoped that mediation would fail. Citing controversy, Damask Holdings could then withdraw, and the project would collapse, leaving systems in the Tingel Arm fuming over having been victimized by a foolish squabble between two wealthy Republic worlds.

After four hours of pointless back-and-forth, Plagueis began to feel like the victimized one. When Count Vemec finally called a break in the proceedings, and many of the participants headed to the food tables,
Plagueis found himself alone with Dooku, Sifo-Dyas, and Qui-Gon Jinn, and drew the cloak of the profane over himself.

“Bickering is becoming all too common,” he remarked to no one in particular. “In the absence of resolution, it will be the outlying systems that will suffer most.”

Dooku nodded sagely. “The hyperwave repeater should have been a Republic undertaking. The Senate erred in allowing the HoloNet to be privatized.”

Qui-Gon Jinn’s ears pricked up, and he glanced at Plagueis. “Discontent in the outer systems is in keeping with the aims of Damask Holdings, is it not, Magister?”

“On the contrary,” Plagueis replied in a composed voice. “We advocate for the interests of neglected worlds when and wherever we can.”

The tall Jedi wasn’t persuaded to back off. “By supporting the likes of the Trade Federation and other cartels?”

“The Trade Federation has brought progress to many a backward world, Master Jinn.”

“Through exploitation that leads ultimately to ruin.”

Plagueis spread his hands. “Progress often comes at a cost. On occasion a world will go through growth pangs as a result, but to call the end result ruination is overstating the case.” He studied Qui-Gon. “Surely the Jedi have had to ignore consequences of the same magnitude in enforcing the laws of the Republic.”

Sifo-Dyas’s dark brows formed a V. A short, muscular man, he had a broad nose, prominent cheekbones, and lustrous black hair cinched in a high topknot. His hands were large and callused, as if from physical labor. Concern shone in his brown eyes. “It is a misconception that we serve only the Republic, Magister. Our Order serves the greater good.”

“As the Order defines it,” Plagueis said, only to wave the remark away. “But then you have the advantage of being able to act in concert with the Force, where the rest of us are left to grope in the dark for what is just and right. Damask Holdings tries, nonetheless, to take the long view.”

“As do the Jedi,” Qui-Gon said. “But in several instances where we have had to resolve conflicts, it is your name that has surfaced.”

Plagueis shrugged. “The wealthy are held to higher standards than the poor.”